


Boom Crash the Sound of My Ship

by maychorian



Series: Boom Crash [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a Galra attack splits Voltron, the blue lion is damaged and falls toward the jungle planet below. Shiro follows, and now he and Lance are stranded in hostile territory, fighting to survive. Lance is injured, Shiro is having flashbacks, and help is far away. And the Galra just...keep coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mmm, fresh new fandom smell. Once again, I am writing a fic I want to read, because it does not exist. May contain general spoilers for Season 1, but nothing really specific. I apologize for the silly title.

"Come on, Lance. Stay with me, buddy."

Lance groaned. The jungle around them was thick and stinking. Maybe it was more swamp than jungle, come to think of it. It smelled like a hot garbage dump, and something about it tugged at memories that Shiro didn't want to pursue. He hefted Lance up on his shoulder, Lance's arm limp around his neck, and tried to guide him farther down what he was desperately hoping was a path.

Lance's head bobbed uncomfortably against Shiro's shoulder. He kept trying to pull his head up and blink blearily at their surroundings, but then his head would sink again, too heavy for his failing strength. His knees were bending beneath him, and though he was trying to support a little bit of his weight and move his feet when Shiro told him to, he was mostly failing.

Shiro grit his teeth and kept going. "Come on, buddy," he murmured. "I know it's rough. We can make it." 

It sucked that this had happened again. Why did Lance always catch the brunt of whatever fresh disaster they'd landed in? By all rights it should be Keith, always running ahead of the others, or Hunk, who instinctively threw himself into harm's way, depending on his bulk and toughness (as well as that of his lion) to keep himself and his comrades safe. Or even Shiro, really. He was the leader. He should be the one in the forefront catching the bullets when they came.

It was their luck that Lance tended to be just observant enough to see trouble coming before most of the others did, just heroic enough to jump into the way without thinking, and just clumsy enough to get himself hurt more often than not. 

Granted, this time it wasn't Lance's fault. On their last mission, the Galra had brought out some crazy attack that split Voltron and scattered the lions. In the ensuing firefight, the blue lion was damaged, then got caught in the nearby planet's gravitational pull and started spiraling downward while the others could only watch in horror, unable to reach him in time with half of a Galra fleet in the way. Shiro had smashed his way through and gone after him, but the others had been forced to warp away before the incoming Galra battleships captured the Castle of Lions. 

"We'll lead them on a merry chase about the moon and be back for you in two ticks' time!" Coran had cried over the comms just before Shiro plunged down to the planet, following the blue lion as it spun downward, sparking dead weight plummeting from the sky. "Hide out and wait! If you have to abandon the lions, do it! They can activate their particle barriers to protect themselves. Just stay alive, stay hopeful, and wait for us!"

"Good advice, Coran," Shiro muttered now. "Good, good advice. A little harder to follow than I thought it would be, but okay. Hide out and wait. Excellent plan."

At first Shiro thought it was a crazy idea to abandon the lions. Even as he was chasing the blue lion and the Galra were chasing him, he was aware that he and Lance were going to have to go on the defensive and wait it out for rescue. But surely they could just hunker in the lions and fight off any attack that came. The lions had waited for ten thousand years, after all, before their paladins came and claimed them. Surely they could wait for a few more hours, or days, or whatever Coran really meant when he said "two ticks." 

But when the blue lion crashed down in what amounted to a lake almost completely shrouded with algae in the middle of this swampy, sweltering jungle, Shiro had realized the problem. Lance wasn't responding on the comms. That meant Shiro had to go get him. Now. If the blue lion sank into the lake while Lance was unconscious and the lion was damaged...

Shiro couldn't bear to imagine the possibilities. His brain lit up with an image of Lance limp in his pilot chair, face bloody, eyes closed, while water poured in from a breach and panels sparked and alarms blared. Shiro’s heart wanted to tear out of his chest. He wasn't really...thinking...all that clearly when he jammed his way out of the black lion, yelled for his lion to "GUARD!" at the top of his lungs, and dove into the lake.

He got him out. The blue lion seemed to have just enough power to open a hatch to let him in, a quick burst of bubbles as the last air bled out, and Shiro got in there. He found Lance almost exactly like he’d imagined. The blast that had shaken the lion and knocked Lance unconscious had also damaged his helmet, and the facemask hadn’t closed to protect him from the environment. Shiro had no idea how much water he’d already breathed in, and he had to get him out, had to get him out _now._

By the time they broke surface, Shiro gasping with his heart racing and Lance still and silent in his white-knuckled grip, the Galra had already reached the crash site. Robots patrolled the shores, steadily drawing nearer. Shiro wrapped his arm around Lance's chest and swam as stealthily as he could to a stand of trees as far from the patrols as he could get. 

Then there had been those desperate few moments kneeling over Lance in a pile of bracken, pushing water out of his lungs, muttering, "Come on, come on, come on, don't do this, don’t you do this to me..." After what felt like far too long, dangerously long, Lance suddenly half-coughed, half-yelled and flopped over on his side like a gutted fish as water gushed from his mouth in dark, algae-ridden spurts. His hands rose to clutch his chest, and he jackknifed in the bracken, fighting down a scream of pain that died for lack of air. 

Just at that moment, Shiro had never heard anything quite as good as Lance's confused and agonized fight for breath. Because he was alive and he was breathing, and for a little bit there that was more than Shiro had dared to hope for. Water streamed down Lance's face, from his hair, from his eyes, and Shiro pulled him into a sitting position and clutched him to his chest because too close. That was too close.

"Wha...what..." Lance sputtered in Shiro's ear and sagged against him, too weak to sit upright. "Ow ow ow, what happened, this hurts..."

"No big deal, you just swallowed half a lake, that's all," Shiro said, half hysterical, his voice high and cheerful. "Everything's good now, it's coming up. I bet you'll never whine about food goo again after all this slimy water."

"What water?" Lance complained. "What lake? I thought we were in _space."_

Shiro laughed and clutched him a little tighter, because of course. Of course that was what Lance didn't like about this situation. The fact that they weren't in _space_ anymore.

"Ugh, no, my chest hurts." Lance managed to raise a hand high enough to press against his side, then whimpered in pain as soon as he succeeded. "I know I hit my head, I remember that much, but did I break a rib, too?"

"Ah, sorry." Shiro pulled back, though he had to hold on to Lance's upper arms to keep him up. "I think that's my fault."

Lance squinted at him through the nasty water still obscuring his vision. "Why?" He seemed to gain a little more awareness, then, and he looked around and half-raised the arm not pressing his side to look at the water still dripping off his armor. A spark of something like his usual self lit in his eye, and he raised his head and tried to peer through the jungle back toward the lake. Shiro knew without looking that a glimpse of water was just barely visible through the trees. He hadn't dared to get very far from the lake before he started doing compressions. Couldn't risk the time when he didn't even know how long Lance hadn't been breathing.

Lance finally swiveled his head back to look at Shiro, his eyes wide. "We crash-landed on that planet, didn't we? And I fell in a lake."

Shiro nodded. Even a concussed, wrung-out Lance was quite a bit sharper than most people gave him credit for. "Correct on both counts."

Lance winced and looked down at his side, then back to Shiro. "Did you have to give me CPR?"

Shiro grimaced in sympathy. "Yeah. Sorry, buddy. I know it doesn't feel good, and you already got knocked around in the battle."

Lance shook his head in wonder and looked back to the lake. The side of his mouth twisted up in a wry grin. "Man, you really are my hero. Thanks, Shiro."

Shiro caught his breath, and for a moment his thoughts almost cut off. He felt like he'd heard those words before, but not like this. Not so heartfelt and sincere. Despite the heat and the humidity of the jungle-swamp, he suddenly felt cold stone at his back, beneath him, the arid and echoing emptiness of a hidden cell buried in the ground, beneath an arena...

Then Lance was shifting, not quite shaking off Shiro's grip on his arms, but struggling to get up despite it. He almost managed his feet, then fell back to one knee with a groan. His arm wrapped around his injured side, and his head sagged. He panted and raised his head to look at Shiro, cloudy fear beginning to overcome the bright awareness. "Shiro... We gotta go. I hear 'em, the robots, getting closer..."

Shiro snapped to, staring away. He heard it too. "Yeah, you're right. We gotta go." He climbed out of the bracken and pulled Lance's arm over his shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, man, I can do anything." Lance released a breathless little chuckle. It didn't fool either of them, but Shiro smiled in gratitude, even so.

"Good to know. Let's find a place to hide out for a while."

They set off into the jungle. Shiro kept the pace as high as he dared, always with an eye over his shoulder for the patrols. If the robots had any sort of intelligence programming, the two of them would not be hard to track—one injured and stumbling, the other distracted, neither with any woodcraft to speak of. But if the patrols were just going to go in preset patterns, they might have a chance. Shiro would put good odds on the latter, but he was never a betting man. 

Lance kept up as well as he could, but before long he was panting, his head hanging down and his arm gripping Shiro with all his strength. Shiro could hear the raggedness in his breath, and he knew it wasn't good. Even just moving with cracked or broken ribs had to be agony, never mind the half-run, half-stumble they were going at. Not to mention the aching lungs from the water he'd taken in, plus an earlier concussion and general battering on top of it.

To put it short, Lance was in a bad way. Not as bad as when that explosion had rocked the Castle of Lions and almost robbed them of...well...everything, but pretty close. Too close for comfort. Shiro needed to find a safe place where they could rest ASAP.

The thick air of the jungle seemed to cling to Shiro's face, and sweat pasted his hair to his head, but not long into the run he realized that the rest of his body wasn't feeling too bad. Almost inaudible whirring sounds rising from his armor told him why—the suit was regulating his body temperature. It was just like when they did EVA in space. The pilot armor was not intended for extended exposure to vacuum, but it could handle it for short periods. Of course it would protect him from swampy heat as well as the cold of space.

Shiro turned to Lance to share this revelation with him, but instantly saw that it wasn't working the same way for him. Lance's armor had been damaged in the battle, and the small indicator lights weren't shining. Shiro was carrying both of their helmets strapped to his belt, having removed Lance's helmet in a frenzy right before he started CPR, and he could feel them bumping against his hip. Something was broken inside Lance's helmet—Shiro could hear it rattling around. No doubt the rest of the armor was the same.

If only they could trade. Shiro would gladly take the discomfort of traveling in the jungle in broken armor if he could ease the way for Lance even the slightest bit. But the suits (and the bayards, and their lions) were particular. Once they had bonded to a pilot, they wouldn't work for anyone else. A breathless feeling of helplessness began to build up in Shiro's chest at the realization. There really was very little he could do.

If only Hunk was with them, or Pidge. Both of them had become quite well-versed in Altean technology and even enjoyed tinkering with the lions, though the lions had a measure of self-repairing ability. (Thankfully, or there was no way the seven of them could have managed without the endless ranks of mechanics and support staff Shiro remembered maintaining the aircraft back on Earth.) Hunk or Pidge might have been able to take a shot at repairing Lance's armor, but Shiro didn't stand a chance. Oh, he knew very basic ship maintenance from back in his academy days, but working with advanced alien technology... Not a chance.

Lance groaned, his head bobbing up and down as he struggled to maintain his posture, and Shiro focused on him again. "Come on, buddy," he said, putting as much strength and encouragement into his voice as he could. "You can do it."

"Mm, yea'sure, fearless leader," Lance slurred. "Lead on. Where're we goin', anyway?"

"I don't know." Shiro looked forward at the track through the jungle he had chosen to follow. He was hoping it was a path of some sort, because a path meant civilization. If there was civilization on this planet, they might be able to find shelter. Even ruins would be fine. Just something, somewhere, just a modicum of safety where he could tuck Lance under a rock or something and just let him...be safe. Please. Let there be somewhere safe. "We have to keep going, that's all."

"Yeah, do we, though?" Lance pulled up short all of sudden, tugging weakly at Shiro's arm when he would have kept moving. He stared back behind them down the path, and though his eyes were cloudy and unfocused, there was a sharpness there that had been missing for a while.

Shiro turned back to him, a frown tugging down on his mouth. "What do you mean? We have to go. We have to get somewhere safe. The Galra are still searching for us."

"I dunno, man. I haven't heard anything behind us for a long time." Lance lifted a hand to shade his eyes and squinted into the jungle. "You hear that? It's just...uh...alien animals."

Shiro paused, listening. His head tilted to the side as he concentrated on taking it in. He heard something that could have been bird cries, the rustling of smaller creatures around them in the overgrowth. But Lance was right. He couldn't hear the Galra patrols. The tramp of their boots, the whine of their weapons, the splitting of the air as their ships flew overhead. All was heat and nature, nothing of metallic war.

He had been fleeing as if the Galra were on his heels the entire time, Shiro realized. It took him back to another time he had escaped. The first time? He didn't know. Maybe he had made other escape attempts in the year he'd been captive, but he couldn't remember. But the time he succeeded... Yes, he had fled like this, constantly looking back over his shoulder, listening for the patrols, desperate and terrified that he would be caught and dragged back. Back to the druids, back to the experiments, back to the pain, back to the arena where he fought and killed for the entertainment of his enemies, the enemies of his people, his race, his civilization...

"Shiro?" Lance's arm tightened around his neck, pulling him back to the present. Lance was panting again, hot breath bathing Shiro's cheek as he leaned in against him. His face, already pale from his own ordeal, was drawn with concern for Shiro, too. "Hey, man, you okay?"

"I...yeah." Shiro straightened and tightened his arm around Lance in return. "I'm fine. Sorry. I was just...thinking."

Lance stared at him without blinking. "About the patrols?"

If he only knew. "Yeah." Shiro stared back the way they had come, his breath slowly coming under control. "I think you're right. I think maybe we lost them."

Lance nodded as if he had known all along. "Yeah. Well, they have been after the lions this whole time, not us. They're probably guarding the crash site and not bothering to come after us."

"Yeah." Shiro nodded once, then again, stronger. "Yeah, you're probably right." He squeezed Lance's shoulders. "The lions will be okay. Coran said so. They'll activate their particle barriers and hold out until we can come back for them."

"Of course I'm right." Lance nodded, not as cockily as he probably meant to, but that was because he had almost no strength left now. He was leaning against Shiro so heavily that it was a wonder he was still upright at all. He offered Shiro a shaky smile as his head began to sink down to his chest again. "So you think maybe...we could sit down now?"

"Oh. Oh! Yeah. Yeah, sure, buddy. Let's do that." 

Lance sagged even further, a breathless sigh of relief whistling out of him. Shiro hefted him up on his shoulder and looked around again, this time with much more purpose. There...over there. A gigantic tree had fallen, opening a hole in the jungle canopy above. They could take shelter next to the trunk, maybe find some comfy leaves to make a nest, clear some ground to make a fire if they needed to.

"Right over there, Lance, okay? Maybe fifty yards over there." Shiro pointed. "Can you walk a little farther?"

All of Lance's bravado had vanished now, and oh, he had kept it up for a long time. "I'll try." His voice was low and pained, not a smidgen of cockiness left. "I'm not...I'm not doing so good, Shiro..."

"I know. I know. I've got you." Once again, Shiro hefted him higher. He was taking probably seventy-five percent of Lance's weight now. Lance moved his feet, but Shiro all but carried him the last little distance.

He didn't mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro settled Lance by the fallen log. Lance's eyes were all but shut, and he was putty in Shiro's hands, letting him arrange him as he wished. Shiro took care to nestle Lance's head in a smooth place on the trunk, then sat back on his heels and looked at him.

"Lance. Are you awake?"

Lance's eyes slid open from a sliver to slightly more than a sliver. "Nnh."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Shiro unclipped Lance's bayard from his belt and put it in his hands. "Listen. I'm gonna go scout the area, look for fresh water, make sure there are no patrols around. You need to stay awake. Just for a little longer, okay? If anything dangerous comes, you need to be able to shoot it. I'll hear the noise and come back. I won't go out of earshot, I promise. As soon as I get back, you can sleep. I know you want to, and you need it, too. But hold off just a little longer. Stay tough for me, okay?"

Partway through Shiro's speech, Lance's eyes opened a little wider, then wider still. By the end, he was staring at Shiro with his eyes as wide as he could make them, his face solemn and as intent as it could be. The paleness of his face and the trickle of blood painting his hairline, though, served to remind Shiro that this was a terrible, terrible situation, and it sucked very, very hard that he was having to admonish an injured _kid_ to be tough for him.

"I got it, Shiro." Lance's voice was serious, too, and at least there was a little bit of strength back in his voice. He lifted the bayard in his hands, and with a slight grunt of effort, the sleek, powerful gun he loved so much materalized in his lap. Lance wrapped his hands around it, and Shiro pretended he didn't see them tremble.

Shiro gave him a strained smile. "Great job. Hang tight. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know you will." Lance nodded, little more than a shift of his head, not even lifting his weight off the trunk.

It would have to be enough. Not for the first time, and not for the last, Shiro wished that even one more of their teammates was with them. It would be much better if he could leave someone to guard Lance while he scouted. But it was just the two of them, and their options were limited. Shiro stood up and set off into the jungle, not without a few glances behind him.

He kept his word. He didn't go far, just slowly moved around the spot where he'd left Lance in ever-widening concentric circles. Shiro poured all his strength into being in the present moment, watching and listening and feeling and smelling. He had to be able to hear if Lance shot his weapon or called for him. He watched for any signs of predators or Galra patrols. And it was with great relief that he finally detected the scent of fresh water somewhere nearby.

Only then did he break the radius he'd been keeping and strike out toward the scent. Even so, he kept looking back at the fallen tree to make sure he wasn't too far out. If he had to go back and relocate Lance to a better spot for fresh water, so be it. Fortunately, he didn't have to go far.

Only a minute or so after he first smelled water, he found the base of an enormous tree that reminded him of a mangrove back on Earth, rising out of the forest floor with giant, exposed roots running over the ground in a maze-like confusion of growth. The tree was large enough to build a house in, though Shiro had no such ambitions. In searching through the roots, continually sniffing and listening for the tell-tale trickle, Shiro came across a sheltered little pool of clear, bubbling water.

An enormous sound of relief rushed out of his mouth, and Shiro collapsed gently to his knees by the spring. The roots around it and the leaves above it seemed to be protecting the water, and a fresh bed of purplish moss growing beside it seemed like a good sign to Shiro. Because it was a spring, the water moved continually, which prevented any algae or other problems that could come with stagnant water. Basically, it was perfect, like something from a fairy tale about woodland sprites and nymphs.

Shiro was not completely taken in, of course. He didn't just dunk his head into the spring, though he very much wanted to. Even clear, pretty water out in nature was bound to carry all kinds of pathogens. He would need to treat it before he and Lance could drink it, but the suit came equipped with some survival gear, including Altean water purification tablets. (Allura called them "clearing pebbles," but whatever. Shiro knew water purification tablets when he saw them.)

Nevertheless, this was a great find. And so close to where he'd left Lance, too. Shiro opened a pouch on the back of his belt that housed some of the survival gear and pulled out a collapsible water bag, then began filling it from the spring. When it was partway full, he dropped in a "pebble" so it could start working. They should have drinkable water in about fifteen minutes, which was faster than the stuff on Earth. Altean technology for you.

"Shiro!" Lance's voice was strangled, but the terror in it was clear. Shiro shot to his feet, only barely remembering in time to grab the water bag, and bolted back to the fallen tree.

He expected to find a Galra patrol, though he hadn't heard Lance's gun go off, or maybe a gigantic predator slavering down on Lance's hiding spot. He stood over Lance and turned a frantic three hundred and sixty degrees, peering wildly all around, but there was nothing, just trees and plants and sunlight and hot, sticky air. Only marginally reassured by the lack of apparent enemies in the area, Shiro turned to Lance and fell to his knees beside him.

Lance was hunched up over his weapon, his breath coming in whistling pants that rasped and tore at his throat. It hurt to hear him. His fingers were crabbed, gripping his gun with all his strength, and the tendons on his neck stood out. "Shiro..."

"I'm here, I'm here." Shiro started to reach out, then let his hand hover in the air, unsure of his best course. What was happening? The pain and fear in every inch of Lance's body made Shiro's throat tighten, all but choking him. "What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong!"

"I can't...I can't move... I can't... Shiro..."

Shiro's heart jumped in his throat. Paralysis? Did Lance have a spinal injury that they'd somehow missed? How could he have walked this far? But no, the guy was still moving, curling up around his bayard like a frightened child with a teddy bear, though his body was stiff and barely mobile. It was as if...

Oh. Shiro's heart somehow sank and lightened at the same time. He knew what this was, and it wasn't paralysis. But it really, really sucked that Lance had to experience it. Everything just sucked so hard right now.

"Lance." He reached out again, and this time he got his hands on Lance's shoulder and arm, trying to hold him steady as he shook violently in the bracken. "It's okay, buddy. You're cramping up. It's just cramps."

"It hurts...so bad..."

"I know. I know it does." Shiro gently pried the bayard from Lance's grasping hands. It reverted, and he set it aside, then turned back to loosen Lance's armor. "You got bruised in the battle. While we were moving, you kept warm and limber enough to lessen the effects, but now that we've stopped and had time to rest, your muscles are stiffening and cramping up. It's okay. We can fix this."

"Yes, but my entire _body?"_ Lance's voice was high with dismay.

"Yeah. You must have gotten beaten up pretty bad. I'm sorry, kiddo. I know it sucks."

Shiro had succeeded in removing Lance's armor from the waist up, revealing the white coverall they all wore beneath it. The thin cloth was still damp from Lance's dunk in the water, and it had to be itchy and uncomfortable, but that was obviously the least of Lance's worries. And yeah, Shiro could see bruises beginning to mottle Lance's skin everywhere it was visible, purple and black and deep, deep blue.

"I'm gonna help you. Try to relax, okay? It'll be hard, but try."

Shiro took Lance's arm in his hands and began to massage the stiff, trembling muscles. They felt hard as rock, but he persisted, digging in and pressing down. Lance gasped in pain at the first touch, then curled up even tighter and pressed his side against the tree trunk. But he also did his best to comply, lying as still as he could under Shiro's ministrations, his head limp on the trunk and eyes squeezed shut. Before long, Shiro was distressed to see tears trickling down his cheek, and Lance's breath whistled out through gritted teeth. But he held it in and just let Shiro work on him.

After massaging his arm, Shiro moved to his shoulders. He pressed his own side against the tree trunk, too, kneeling behind Lance with his knees almost touching him. "Lance, can you lie down on the ground? I'll work on your back."

Lance groaned, but he did it, movements slow and careful. Shiro straddled him, careful to keep his weight off his battered teammate, and pressed on. Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, he felt the tension draining from Lance's body. By the time he sat him up again and began to work on the other arm, Lance was completely wrung out. He lay against the trunk like a ragdoll, his eyelids half-open and drooping, his face slack. It would have been creepy if it wasn't exactly what Shiro wanted to see. Lance had managed to relax, somehow.

"Better?" he asked eventually, carefully drawing back. His own fingers and hands were starting to feel a little cramped themselves after all that hard work. Shiro didn't care. He curled them into loose fists and rested against the trunk, watching Lance's face.

Lance nodded bonelessly, pretty much just flopping his head around a little bit. "Still hurts, but...not as bad. Stomach's still a little cramped, I think."

Shiro started to reach out. "You want me to..."

Lance grimaced and shook his head, shrinking away a little with his hands folded protectively over his abdomen. "No thanks. My ribs are still..."

"Ah." Shiro sat back. "Sorry."

Lance blinked. "Why are you sorry? You saved me. You...you did so much. How do you even know how to do that, anyway? Did they have different classes at the academy back in your day?"

Shiro half-smiled, a sudden image of Iverson teaching a massage class popping into his head. That would have been something to see. "Not quite. I learned that...somewhere else."

A scattering of images flared before his eyes. The arena cell after a battle, Shiro aching everywhere, the memory of being thrown into a wall. A fellow prisoner, huge, hulking, furry, kind eyes looking down at him in concern. Strong, sinewy fingers that coaxed him to lie down, then dug into his side, making him yell. But the fingers kept going, pushing, soothing, teasing the knots to release, until Shiro found himself crying, his face wet and head pounding. It was pure relief that made him cry, not the pain, relief at finding humanity and compassion in this cold, dark place so far away from his human home.

What had happened to that gentle being? Shiro couldn't remember. He hoped he was still alive.

Lance was watching him, his face contemplative. "Hmm. Still, it's a nice skill to have." His eye glinted, and his mouth curled up in that stupid teenage-horndog grin. "I hear that the ladies..."

"Shut up, brat." Shiro reached out and cuffed him gently on the head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Lance huffed out a breathless laugh and curled up against the trunk, his eyes falling almost shut. He was still grinning. "I heard you say 'suck' earlier."

Shiro blinked. "What?"

"You said, 'I know it sucks.'" And now Lance downright giggled. What the heck. "Fearless leader used a bad word."

Shiro rolled his eyes. "You really are a brat."

"Don't be mean. I'll tell on you to Allura."

"I don't think she'll care about any of us using 'bad words' from Earth." Did "suck" even count as a bad word? Shiro hadn't thought so. Lance could be weirdly innocent sometimes.

Lance giggled again, then abruptly coughed. It was harsh and loud, rattling his entire frame. He pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle a yelp, then groaned and subsided, one hand pressed to his aching lungs. "Ow. Ow ow ow."

"Lance..." Shiro started to reach out again, but Lance waved him off with one hand.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Sorry. Didn't mean to worry you."

Shiro frowned. He didn't care if it was a bad word. This really, really sucked. Then he blinked as something occurred to him. "Oh! I found water. It must be ready by now." He looked around for the water bag and found where he had dumped it a couple of paces away. Fortunately, he had cinched it shut on the way back, so nothing had been lost.

He reached out and snagged the bag, then brought it back and held it out to Lance. "Are you thirsty?"

Lance opened one eye. His body was still limp and exhausted against the tree trunk, but that one little look was almost frantic. "Uh. Yeah. Very. Feels like something died in my mouth."

Shiro grimaced. "That would be the algae." He scooted closer and held the bag up so Lance could drink from it.

Lance drank thirstily but carefully. It probably hurt his throat and his chest. Shiro expected him to drain most of the bag, but after a half-dozen big swallows he sat back, gasping. Shiro looked at him, forehead wrinkling, and Lance waved a hand again. "You drink, too. You've been working hard."

Ah. Shiro smiled. "There's plenty more where that came from. I found a spring just a few minutes away."

"Yeah, cool. Drink now."

"Brat," Shiro muttered. But there was nothing he could do but obey.

The water tasted delicious.


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, Shiro did relocate Lance to the mangrove-like tree where the spring was, mostly because he thought that it would provide better shelter. Before night fell, he had time to construct a shelter out of some gigantic leaves he found lying around as well as the groundsheets from both of their survival gear. It ended up as basically a lean-to propped against the enormous tree, but it worked well enough. Lance dozed through the entire process, curled up on the ground where Shiro had deposited him between two pillar-like roots. Shiro built the shelter around him, and in the end was quite pleased with the results.

It wasn't exactly home. It wasn't even the Castle of Lions, which had come to feel like home over the last few weeks or months or however long it had been. But it would do for a while. Hopefully until the others could come back for them. Shiro really didn't want to make Lance move again if he didn't have to. It had been hard enough getting this far. If the Galra really weren't going to come after them, maybe they could just stay here and wait.

Sunset was beginning to fall on the jungle when Shiro finally had enough of fiddling with the ties he had used to construct the shelter and decided to stop for the night. He crept into the shelter and sat next to Lance, who was curled up in his white coverall next to the pile of his armor (and some of Shiro’s). Shiro had hoped that Lance would be more comfortable sleeping without that bulky suit, but even in sleep, his face was drawn and pale, and sweat dampened his hair and slicked his temples. He was shivering, too, which was new. Shiro frowned.

"Lance." Shiro rested a hand on his head, hoping to wake him as gently as possible. He had already woken Lance a couple of times throughout the shelter-making process to check on him, and this method seemed to be the least likely to make Lance start awake and hurt himself with moving too suddenly.

So it was this time. Lance's eyes slowly blinked open, and he stared ahead of himself blankly for a moment, then turned his head to look up at Shiro. "Oh. Hi."

His voice was raspy and faint. Shiro frowned a little harder. He could feel the heat of Lance's head through the hand resting in his hair. Lance was shivering, but he was burning up. Fever. He had a fever.

"How are you feeling?" Shiro asked.

"Not great." Lance curled up a little tighter, hugging his knees to his chest. He seemed a little detached, which might be fever or might be exhaustion or might just be the effects of being in full-body pain for an extended period.

Shiro sighed. "Can you sit up? I think we should eat now. And you need to drink more water."

Lance pressed his head into the tarp Shiro had spread under him, passively resisting the instruction. "I'm not hungry."

"That's the fever." Shiro ran his fingers through Lance's sweaty hair. "Come on, kiddo. You need to eat. I'll let you go back to sleep right afterward."

"Promises, promises," Lance muttered. But after a moment to steel himself, he slowly pushed himself upright, hissing through his teeth as the movement jarred his battered body. Shiro supported him with a hand on his shoulder, under his elbow, until Lance leaned back against the trunk and blinked at him in a daze.

Shiro watched his eyes. One reason he'd been waking Lance up periodically was to check on his pupils. They looked normal now, as they had each time before, and Lance seemed cognizant and aware. He hadn't even complained of a headache or nausea. But Shiro was still worried about that concussion. Of all of the injuries Lance had suffered today, that one was the most dangerous and had the most potential to cause long-term problems if they couldn't get Lance treated in time. Brain damage was nothing to mess around with.

Now, it occurred to him that he'd never asked Lance what happened in the blue lion. He had presumed that Lance wouldn't be able to remember, since most victims of concussions could not recall the moment of the injury. But Lance had said that he remembered hitting his head, so maybe he was an exception.

"Lance, what do you remember from the battle? You said you knew you hit your head. Were you awake afterward, or did you pass out?"

Lance blinked at him, evidently confused by the question, but then he nodded. "Yeah, I was awake. If I did pass out, it was only for a second or two. I mean, it hurt really bad, and I couldn't really do anything..." A shudder passed over his shoulders at the memory, and Shiro grimaced in sympathy, sorry to make him go through it again.

Still, he had to know. "Then why didn't you respond on the comms? Also, you were unconscious when I pulled you out of the blue lion, so you must have passed out at some point. Was it the water?"

Did Lance remember drowning? Shiro's chest felt heavy at the thought. He'd heard enough stories to know that drowning was incredibly painful. If Lance had been awake through that, it must have been extremely traumatic.

Lance looked thoughtful at the question, but not pained. "No... I don't remember the water. I didn't know I'd even been in the water until I woke up with you leaning on my chest. The last thing I remember was being in Blue right after that big blast hit us. All the alarms were going off, and a bunch of systems had failed. I got beaned around the pilot cabin like a...well, like a bean. And then we went into a spin and couldn't recover, and I was pressed into the wall. That was when I passed out, I think."

"Oh." The relief was so strong that Shiro felt a little light-headed, himself. So it was g-forces that had caused Lance's unconsciousness, not a severe concussion. Still, Lance had hit his head, even if it was much milder than Shiro had assumed, so he would keep checking on him for at least the next day or so. "Okay. That's not as bad as I thought it was."

Lance squinted at him. "Well. I mean. It's still kind of bad. We're stuck on this planet without our lions, and who even knows where everyone else is. And have you noticed the smell? This place smells like a restaurant dumpster."

Shiro was startled into a bemused smile. "...A restaurant dumpster?"

Lance nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Restaurant dumpsters are the worst. You know, because of all the rotting food." His eyes went far away for a moment. "I guess there could be worse ones. Like ones behind a daycare where all the kids are in diapers or something? Hmm."

"How do you know what a restaurant dumpster smells like?" Shiro asked with some wonder, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. "And how do you know enough to compare them to other dumpsters?"

Lance waved a hand. "Childhood, man. My tio had a restaurant where me and my cousins would hang out sometimes. The alley behind it was the best, like this amazing playground, always something new to mess around with..." He trailed off and stared away for a moment, his face twisting, then shook himself out of it and looked back to Shiro. "Did you say something about food earlier? I would kill for a garlic knot."

"Sorry, nothing that good." Shiro handed over the ration bar he'd pulled out of Lance's armor. He had already opened the wrapper for him. "We both have enough for a couple of days. If we're stuck here longer than that, I guess we'll have to find out what the local cuisine is like."

Lance held the ration bar in front of his face and sniffed it doubtfully. "This doesn't smell much better than the planet."

Shiro bit into his own bar. It didn't taste much better, either, but he was determined not to let that show. "Coran assured me that Altean survival rations are extremely nutritious."

Lance eyed him askance. "Of course you discussed Altean survival rations with Coran." He looked back to the bar and sighed. "That guy has weird ideas about what makes food good. I don't think taste factors in at all."

Shiro waved his bar in the air. "Eat. You need to keep up your strength. Your body won't be able to heal without nutrition."

"Healing, huh. I'd rather just hop in a cryo pod, if this is the alternative."

Shiro smiled. "Not an option right now, buddy. Come on, eat your food. You want me to do a little flying airplane for you? Or a flying lion, maybe?"

Lance chuckled almost soundlessly. He had learned that laughing too hard made his chest hurt. "Please, no. I can feed myself."

"Then do it." Shiro resolutely ate the rest of his ration bar. Setting a good example had never been so difficult. That stuff was truly atrocious.

"Ugh. Fine." Lance sniffed the bar again, then stuck out his tongue like a child. "Bleh." Then he literally held his nose. "I want it to go on the record that I am doing this under protest."

"Duly noted."

Lance took a bite of the bar. His face went through an amazing number of contortions as he chewed. Then he swallowed and stared at Shiro with something like betrayal. _"Extreme_ protest."

Shiro nodded solemnly, though he was struggling to keep a grin off his face. "Eat your food, soldier. That's an order."

"This is a human rights violation." Lance kept eating, though. He took small bites, his face screwing up in disgust with each chew, and even these low-key antics seemed to be wearing him out far too quickly. But he got through the entire bar, then tossed the wrapper in Shiro's direction and slumped against the tree. His eyes were already drooping. "You said I could go back to sleep when I finished, right?"

"Yep. Water first, though." Shiro held out the water bag, freshly replenished from the spring.

Lance's hands trembled as he held it to his face, but he seemed determined to take care of himself, so Shiro didn't try to help. Water trickled out the sides of Lance's mouth as he drank, and when he finished, he all but dropped the bag into his lap. He was panting again, and he looked completely done.

Shiro took the bag, then got up on his knees and rummaged around in their gear. He came up with a foil blanket. "Here. You want to lean against the tree or lie down on the ground again?" If Lance's lungs were still bothering him, he might sleep better in a reclining position.

Lance's eyes were barely open. "Think I'll stay here. How did you know I was cold? Seems weird, what with us being in a hot jungle and all."

"You're shivering. You didn't notice?" 

Lance raised his eyebrows. "Hmm. Guess not. This is super weird."

Shiro tucked the blanket around his shoulders and under his legs. "You have a fever, buddy. Fevers do weird things. Try not to kick this off, okay? You might start feeling hot later, but it's still better to stay covered up."

"Yeah, okay." Lance was almost asleep already. Shiro would be surprised if he even remembered this conversation later. No problem. He would just make sure Lance stayed tucked in himself.

"Hey." Right before he drifted off, Lance opened his eyes wide and stared at Shiro. "You're taking first watch, I get that, and I'm grateful. But you'll wake me up to take watch later, right? You need to sleep, too."

Shiro smiled. "Yeah, of course. Now go to sleep. That's another order."

"Yessir, Shiro, sir." The words were so slurred that it was hard to tell if Lance was being serious or sarcastic. And he was out, just like that. 

Shiro turned to the opening of the shelter. He set his shoulder against the gigantic buttressing root and peered out at the lowering night. He heard rustling sounds out there in the dark, steadily growing louder as nocturnal creatures stirred and began to move.

They knew nothing about this planet. It could be completely peaceful. All the animals here could be herbivorous, or any carnivores could be too small or weak to attack them. Or there could be enormous predators just beyond the edge of Shiro’s vision that had been stalking them all day, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. There was no way to know.

What Shiro did know was that he had no intentions of letting Lance take a watch. He usually functioned on something like four hours a night, anyway, because otherwise the nightmares got too strong to handle. He could take a couple of days without even that much. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d worked with no sleep. And this time it would be by choice, not because the druids wanted to do another experiment on human physiology.

The first time he woke Lance, holding up a tiny little light to check his eyes, Lance just blinked at him blearily for a few seconds. “Is it my turn to take watch?”

Shiro shook his head. “I’m just checking on your concussion. Need to make sure all cylinders are firing. Do you know where you are?”

“Restaurant dumpster,” Lance said confidently. Shiro smiled and let him go back to sleep.

The second time, Lance was annoyed when Shiro told him it wasn’t time to take watch. Shiro couldn’t be sure, but he thought maybe his fever had gotten worse. “Is this about the concussion thing again?” Lance asked, his voice high and fractious. “I’m _fine._ Let me _sleep._ At this rate I’m not gonna be able to keep watch for you because I’ll be _too tired,_ so what even is the _point.”_

“Okay, okay,” Shiro said, his own annoyance rising in response. Good grief, this kid was...such a kid, sometimes. “I’m just worried about your brain. But you’re just as irritating as usual, so I guess you’re fine.”

“That’s what I just _said._ So can I go back to sleep now?”

“Fine, fine. Go back to sleep.”

The third time, Shiro didn’t even have to touch Lance before he knew that the fever had risen significantly. He paused with his hand hovering by Lance’s face, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin. This was bad.

Even while he had gone through the trouble of purifying their drinking water, Shiro had been aware that in Lance’s case, it was kind of like shutting the hangar bay doors after the lions had already been stolen. He had swallowed all of that nasty lake water, after all, and gotten it in his lungs, too. If there were any pathogens that were harmful to humans in this planet’s water, Lance had already been fully exposed. But somehow, Shiro hadn’t let himself worry too much about it.

He was now. It was good that Lance hadn’t suffered a severe concussion, certainly. But if he had just gotten pneumonia instead…

He could die. Lance could die here on this horrible planet that smelled like a restaurant dumpster, and Shiro wouldn’t be able to save him. Their survival gear was extremely limited. Shiro didn’t remember Allura and Coran mentioning anything about first aid supplies when they’d gone over it. Alteans depended too much on their technology, on their magical cryo pods that could bring anyone back from the very edge of death, if only they got into one in time.

But even a magical healing cyro pod couldn’t cure death. For a long moment, Shiro couldn’t breathe. He just sat there, staring at Lance’s face, dimly lit by his tiny light. He listened to him breathe, slow, raspy, in and out. 

Then Lance stirred, his eyelids twitching under the light. His eyes slid open, blurry and distant, and he seemed to look through Shiro without seeing him. His voice was rough and irritated and very, very tired. “Nicky, for last time, stop waking me up. I only get to sleep in _one day_ a week, and it is _very_ important to me.”

Shiro blinked. “Nicky?” Lance must be delirious. 

Lance blinked, hard, then focused on Shiro’s face. Despite the harshness of his breath and the fever flush in his cheeks, he seemed to be present again. “Shiro?”

“It’s me.” Shiro’s breath rushed out of him in relief, and he slumped on his knees. His hand completed the motion he had begun and swept through Lance’s hair, brushing it back from his face. “Who’s Nicky?”

Lance blinked rapidly. “My little brother. The reason I started wearing an eyemask and headphones at night. Not that it stopped him. Why are you asking about Nicky?”

“You were talking to him.” Shiro kept sweeping his hand through Lance’s hair. He couldn’t seem to stop. “You told him to stop waking you up.”

“Oh.” Lance yawned cavernously and leaned limply back against the tree, his eyes drooping shut again. “Guess it was a dream. It’s your fault, fearless leader. Keep waking me up…”

“Yeah, sorry.” Shiro felt almost weak with relief. It wasn’t delirium, then. Just a dream. “You can go back to sleep if you want to.”

“Okay.” Lance sighed and leaned his head into Shiro’s hand. “But you’ll wake me up for watch, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Next time I wake you up, it’ll be to take watch. I promise.”

He didn’t, though.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ugh, this is so _frustrating."_ Hunk slumped over his control panel with a hearty, full-body sigh, staring up at the readout floating above him with glazed eyes and maybe a little bit of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. "We've been looking for a way in for hours and nothing is turning up."

"We can't give up," Allura said, her eyes still fixed on her own readout, intent and focused. 

"I never said anything about giving up," Hunk said, faintly offended. "I said this is _frustrating._ Which it is."

"The biggest problem is that new attack." Pidge stared up at her screen, glasses glinting white. The image of the largest Galra capital ship filled the space, spinning slowly in place. From their records of the battle, they knew that the new weapon was on that ship, but not precisely where it was located. They had all been studying and analyzing the available data ever since they'd gotten away and hidden behind the farthest moon.

"We knoowwww," Hunk groaned. "If it wasn't for that the three of us could just go in and start blasting, but that thing took out the blue lion with one hit _while she was still connected to Voltron_ so we have no idea how powerful it really is and could...could it vaporize a lion if we caught it full-frontal...?" His lower lip wibbled a bit at the thought.

"I think we should go in anyway." Keith was pacing. Of course. He had given up on data analysis after the first hour or so. Now he was standing by the front observation window, staring out at the stars. They couldn't see the planet from this vantage point, not with the naked eye, but that didn't seem to be stopping Keith from trying. His fist kept clenching and unclenching at his side, over and over again, like a heartbeat. Hunk watched it for a moment, though the sight was not helpful at all. If anything, it just racked up the tension in his shoulders even further.

"You always think we should go in anyway," Pidge said absently, not even glancing away from her screen.

"Of course we should go in," Coran said, his voice strong. "But that doesn't mean we rush in without a plan."

"Yeah! My man," Hunk said in approval. Trust Coran to be the voice of reason. Keith narrowed his eyes and gave them both a dirty look. Hunk shrugged at him.

"Shiro and Lance will be able to hold out," Allura said. She was trying to be reassuring, but her voice was stressed so it came off as if she was scolding them all for not having more faith. "I'm sure they've gone to ground and dug in for an extended wait. We know from the activity on the scanners that the Galra are concentrating on the crash site, so the lions are keeping them busy. We have time to figure out a way around that new weapon before we are absolutely required to go in."

Hunk was forced to agree, though reluctantly. "Yeahhhh, but I mean... We don't know how bad Lance was hurt in the battle. He wasn't answering the comms, so maybe he just got knocked out, but then they went and crashed, so..."

"His vital signs were strong for as long as the castle was able to track them," Coran said in what was no doubt meant to be an assuring tone.

"But we don't know about after that." Hunk waved his hands as if he was trying to juggle a heavy weight between them. "I just..." He sighed as an image rose in his mind, Lance comatose on the floor with blast burns painted on his exposed skin, then floating in the cryo pod so unnaturally still and quiet and so unlike _Lance_ that Hunk had sat by the pod for more than an hour, staring at him as if he could make him heal faster with his eyes. "I just hate not knowing, that's all. I really, really hate it."

"I know. I know." Allura's voice was closer now. She had gotten up from her console and moved over to put a hand on Hunk's shoulder. It felt really nice. He slumped a little, his eyes closing, and covered his face with his hands.

"I'm so worried," he said, his voice muffled and a little moist. "Lance and me have been friends for...for a really long time. I'm sorry I'm being a pain, but... I'm really worried about him."

"I know." Allura squeezed his shoulder. "We are all concerned for Shiro and Lance, but I think we can recognize that you have a right to be a little more upset than the rest of us." She looked around at the others as if daring them to disagree. No one did, though Keith clenched his jaw.

Pidge had finally turned away from screen to look at Hunk in concern. Now she lifted her chin, eyes shining with determination. "So you would feel better if we at least knew how they were doing, right?"

Hunk lowered his hands to peer at her. "Uh. Yeah. I guess."

"Then why don't we drop a BLIP sensor down there, at least?" She looked at Allura and Coran, too. "We need more information. We don't know enough about what's going on down there on the planet or in the Galra fleet. The data from the battle isn't enough to analyze for a weakness or formulate a plan. So we gotta do more recon."

Allura tilted her head. "I'm not disagreeing with you, but the problem in the first place is that we can't get through the fleet to the planet. How would we get close enough to drop a sensor without falling in danger of that new weapon?"

"The green lion." Pidge turned back to her console and hit a button, making a readout of her lion appear. "I've been working on the cloaking device. I've got it up to about a minute and a half of useful runtime now. About ninety ticks," she clarified when Allura and Coran looked confused. "It won't be enough for me to pick up Shiro and Lance and fly out again, but I could drop a sensor and at least exchange information with them." Her mouth tightened. "I can let them know we're coming."

Coran stepped closer and bent over with his hand behind his back to study her readout. "Oh, I see what you've done there," he said thoughtfully. "Very clever, paladin. I'm impressed."

Pidge beamed, then looked back to Allura with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "See? Coran agrees with me."

Coran stepped back, waving his hands in front of him. "I didn't say I agreed. I said it was clever. I still think it's too risky to run in without a better plan than just 'Get close enough to drop a sensor.' The cloak looks stronger than it did before, but a minute and a half is still a very short amount of time to run any kind of recon mission from an outer moon all the way to a planet." 

Keith moved forward now, too, his hands clenched in front of him. "Then we need more lions in the air. Hunk and I can do a hit-and-run to distract the main fleet while Pidge flies in low under the sensors. We'll be quick. In and out." He looked at Pidge, then at Hunk. "All three of us. We realize this isn't the main rescue mission, not yet. We just need to get more information."

"A mission like that will be _very_ tight." Coran moved back over to the main console, which showed a current image of the planet and the Galra fleet blockading it. "The timing will have to be near perfect, or we risk losing another lion." He looked at the three remaining paladins in the room. "We want to get Shiro and Lance back with us, of course. But we solve nothing with a suicide mission."

"Then we'll get the timing perfect." Keith's lips pursed, and his eyes sparked. "We need to make sure our teammates are okay."

Everyone looked to Allura. She looked around at them, her eyes large and liquid with sympathy, but still reluctant. "I understand where you are all coming from," she said. "But I'm still not sure that the rewards outweigh the risks of this plan. I believe in Shiro's ability to take care of himself and Lance, even if Lance is injured. The Galra are focused on the lions, which gives the pilots relative free rein, at least for now. We risk exposing their position with this plan. And if the best reward we can expect is just to reassure ourselves of what we ought to already know..."

Hunk felt his hands clench into fists. He understood what Allura was saying. And maybe it was selfish to want to risk so much just to know for sure that Lance and Shiro were okay at the moment. But he still wanted to do it.

Suddenly, alarm lit up Pidge's eyes, and she put her hand to her ear, where she had stuck an earpiece to listen to the Galra traffic they could catch on their long-range sensors. Her shoulders shot up around her ears, and the others turned to look at her in mute surprise. She didn't look at them, staring off into the distance as she listened to the chatter in her ear. But Hunk could swear that she'd somehow gotten even paler than usual, and Pidge was, like, the palest person Hunk knew.

After a few minutes, Pidge looked up at them. Her face was grim and set, her shoulders still hunched and tense. "I think we just lost any choice we might have had."

Allura's hand tightened on Hunk's shoulder, and this time it wasn't because she was trying to reassure him.

"What do you mean?"

"Shiro and Lance aren't going to be able to lay low anymore. They need to run. And we have to warn them." Swiftly, she explained why.

Before she was done, Allura and Coran were already moving back to their consoles, talking to each other in high, tense voices. They were figuring out the timing on the fly, telling Hunk where to find a BLIP sensor to stow on the green lion, pointing out to Keith the best spots for a hit-and-run on the fleet, charting a course for the green lion to take during those precious ninety ticks of invisibility.

Hunk's heart bunched up in his throat. So the mission was a go, whether they wanted it to be or not. He was...glad? Yeah, glad. 

And then he was out the door, running for the lions.

X

Despite his best intentions, Shiro had fallen into something like a daze about the time dawn started to lighten the edge of the sky. Maybe he could get along without any sleep at all for a while, but that didn't mean it felt good. He would have to check the survival gear and see if he could find the Altean equivalent to caffeine pills. Or something stronger. 

Even with the fuzziness in his brain, though, the reaction of running at a high level of stress for more than half a day, part of him was almost hyper-focused on the sound of Lance's breathing behind him. It had gotten worse during the night, which shouldn't be a surprise, but still worried Shiro more than he could consciously acknowledge. Pneumonia was... It was really bad news. The raspiness in Lance's breath, the shortness of it, the way it sometimes paused for a split second as if his body was forgetting how exactly breathing was supposed to work... It all served to tighten the mucles between Shiro's shoulder blades and worsen his headache. 

And he didn't know what to do about it. They didn't have a cryo pod or a hospital or an oxygen tent or an IV. They didn't have any antibiotics or antipyretics or Vick's Vaporub. He had water, awful-tasting ration bars, a foil blanket, and a tree Lance could lean against. That was it. He wasn't even sure that he could risk building a fire. And who knew what the local version of chicken noodle soup was, or if he'd be able to find or make it.

A crackle of static had him raising his head, straining to listen. He whipped his head around to stare at their gear. The helmet. Something was coming through the helmet. Pidge's voice, high and frantic. He couldn't make out the words, just the stress in the intonation.

Shiro scrambled for the helmet, knocking over a few things in his rush. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance start awake at the noise, eyes struggling to open as his shoulders shifted under the foil blanket. Shiro couldn't spare more attention for him, too focused on the helmet in his hands. He popped it onto his head, his hands shaking.

"Pidge. Pidge! Are you there? Are you coming for us?"

"Shiro! I'm here, but I can't stay, I'm sorry, we don't have time..."

Now Shiro became aware of the noise in the sky outside. He crawled back over to the opening of the shelter and peered out, hoping for a glimpse of that beautiful green lion soaring through the sky. He couldn't see anything; she was too far away. But he heard it, the sound of engines roaring over the horizon, and that was almost as good.

"Listen, Shiro, I can't stay. The ship with that new weapon is orbiting right over this location, and my invisibility cloak won't last for very long. I'm just here to drop off a sensor and warn you. We'll come back for you later. As soon as we can, I promise. But not just yet."

Shiro's heart dropped into his stomach. His hands clenched on the edge of the root he was gripping, holding himself up as he stared out at the sky. "I...I understand," he choked out, though he didn't. Not really. He wanted to go _now._ He wanted to get back to the ship, to his friends and his teammates and his home. To the cryo pod that could save Lance's life.

"But wait...warn me? Why did you come to warn me?"

"The Galra." Pidge's voice was somehow even more frantic. "The Galra are coming, Shiro, I'm sorry, we thought we had more time... We all thought they were only going to go after the lions and leave you alone. But we heard chatter on the comms... They've figured it out."

"What, Pidge? What did they figure out?"

"They figured out that they won't be able to get into the lions without the pilots. They've been trying for hours, and the black lion just keeps blasting them, keeping them back, and the blue lion is hidden under water. So to get the lions out, they're going to come after you and Lance. They're going to capture you and force you to let them into the lions. That's their plan, Shiro. You have to run."

"Wait, run? Run where? Pidge, can you tell me anything else?"

"Sorry..." Pidge's voice was breaking up, the static taking over. The noise in the sky was farther away, distant, almost gone. "Out...time... That's all...know. Run, Shiro! We'll...back... We'll come back!"

And that was it. That was the last clear thing Shiro heard. But it was more than enough.

Behind him, Lance was stirring, pushing weakly at the foil blanket with both hands. He managed to shove it down to his waist, then blinked at Shiro with sticky eyes, his breath harsh in his chest. "Was that...Pidge's voice...?"

Shiro nodded. He moved back over to him, already scooping up the armor he'd removed and putting it on as quickly as he could. He would need to get Lance back into his armor, too. Even broken, it would have to provide some sort of protection. Shiro's hands were steady because he forced them to be, but he could feel the shivering in his heart, in his throat. 

Lance rubbed his eyes with a loose fist, still struggling to fully wake up. "What...what did Pidge say?"

"We have to run, buddy." Shiro finished his armor and reached for Lance's, starting with the boot. "We have to run right now."

Lance made a noise of disgust. "Typical. Just when I was getting cozy in our little tree fort."

Laughter stuttered out of Shiro's mouth, startled, unexpected, fleeing like small birds roused from their nest.

"Yeah," he said. "So typical."

Just another day in the life.


	5. Chapter 5

If Shiro had thought it was hard listening to Lance struggle to breathe while they were fleeing through the jungle yesterday, it was ten times worse today. At first it seemed like Lance might have more energy than Shiro, as if the night of (almost) uninterrupted rest had done some good. Shiro had disassembled the shelter and gathered what was worth taking while Lance fidgeted, ready to take off. Their helmets and gloves bounced on his belt, and the groundsheet that held the rest of their gear was tied into a bag and strapped around his shoulder. When they set off into the brush, Lance had kept at Shiro's side for a good, oh, half hour or so.

Shiro was following that path again, still hoping that it might lead somewhere eventually. He knew it was heading away from the crash site, anyway, which was the most important thing at the moment. They needed to find somewhere to hide. Once the Galra organized themselves enough to get ships into the air, there was no way they wouldn't be tracked down.

This was one instance where the jungle heat could help them instead of hurt them, though. Everything in their surroundings was such a riot of life that it might confuse the Galra biometric scanners. It would be a far different story if they were on an ice planet or an asteroid. Their best bet might be to find some kind of herd of local animals, or a watering hole or something, and hunker there. 

Shiro turned to share these thoughts with Lance, then halted in confusion. Lance wasn't beside him anymore. He was... Where was he?

There, further back down the trail. Lance was leaning on a slender tree, something like a palm, one hand on the trunk to hold himself up as he sagged. Even from this far away, Shiro could see him heaving for breath. His face was too pale again, no longer his natural medium brown, stained with fever flush high on his cheeks. Any strength he'd gathered from his rest had already been drained away.

Shiro jogged back to him, trying to ignore the sinking of his heart. "Lance..."

Lance lifted a hand as if warning him back. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to keep up, I just..."

His eyes fluttered and his knees started to bend. Shiro's hands shot out to grab him, but at the last second Lance caught himself and pushed upright against the tree. He lifted his head to look at Shiro, his eyes wide and close to panic. "I...I'm sorry... I'm trying... I just...it's like it's all...running out. I feel like a sieve..."

Shiro reached out again, and this time he got a hand wrapped around Lance's armored bicep. He could feel him shaking. "It's because you're not getting enough oxygen. You have... Lance, I think you have pneumonia." Think, ha. If he hadn't been sure before, he was now. "The water you breathed in yesterday... Your lungs are infected, so they're not working right. It's not your fault."

Lance huffed out a bitter laugh. "Okay, yeah. Not my fault, fine. But we still...have to deal with it... And...and I'm sorry to be...not strong enough..."

"Lance." 

Shiro reached out his free hand. Before he could grab Lance's other arm, though, Lance caught that hand in his. And he held on, gripping tight, looking into Shiro's eyes.

"You can't... Shiro... You can't carry me, man. I can tell you want to, but... I know you didn't wake me up for watch. You stayed up all night, and you've already been doing all the work, anyway. If you try to carry me, you're going to run out of strength, too. And neither of us will get away."

Shiro felt his jaw clench. This was not what he wanted to hear. Not at all. But he also could not deny the truth in Lance's words.

"Fine," he said shortly. "I won't carry you. You're such a lanky guy that it would be awkward anyway. But at least put your arm over my shoulder again, and we'll go like we did yesterday. I'm not gonna leave you behind."

Lance sighed. "Fine. Whatever you say, fearless leader." He let Shiro lift his arm and wrap it around his neck. Shiro put his own arm around Lance's back, tightening when he felt Lance sway.

They started off again, slower than before. Unlike yesterday, Lance was a lot more aware of his surroundings, the effects of his mild concussion having mostly worn off. He was trying. Shiro could feel him trying, straining, struggling. He could feel every harsh, shortened breath, every falter in his step, every time he clenched the arm over Shiro's shoulders to keep his balance.

Shiro had never imagined such a stressful journey. The memories of his last escape kept rising in his mind, but they barely seemed to compare. He had been terrified then, yes, certainly, running on instinct and focused entirely on the path ahead of him and the enemy behind him. But he had had only himself to worry about, no companions, nothing but the pure and heedless rush to _get away._ His view had narrowed down to something almost animalistic, primal and unrestrained. Running with a sick and injured teammate, holding him up, listening to him breathe, was something else entirely.

It was worse, far worse. But in some ways, it was also better. Worrying about Lance was at least a good distraction from the flashbacks.

A few hours in, the sound Shiro had dreaded finally came. The sound of Galra drone ships over the horizon. The sound was regular, a high shrieking roar, relentless. They were running a grid pattern. And inevitably, they were going to find them.

Shiro halted on the path, and Lance drew up short beside him, his head hanging low as he wheezed. Shiro looked around, praying for something, somewhere, anywhere to hide. They had left the trees behind and were in something like a field of shoulder-height plants steaming in the sunlight. Giant leaves spread like umbrellas, hiding the forest floor. 

They didn't have a lot of choice. "Lance, duck down." Shiro suited action to words, getting down on his knees and dragging Lance with him. Lance fell heavily to his hands and knees, unable to react quickly enough. Shiro kept a hand on his back as he peered into the field of plants. From this perspective, he could see bunched roots and rising stalks, the leaves like a dark green roof above. The leaves almost blocked the sunlight, opaque and thick, sucking in the sun, and the dirt was loamy and rich. It would have to do.

"Follow me." Shiro started crawling under the leaves. They might not be able to hide from the biometric scanners, but at least they could hide visually. The drone ships were not that sophisticated. Maybe they would take Shiro and Lance's heat signatures as belonging to native animals. It was a futile hope, Shiro knew, but he held on to it anyway.

Lance followed, ragged breath echoing under the green roof of leaves. Shiro didn't make him go far. Three or four plants away from the path, he found a depression in the dirt and dumped everything there. He sat, his back to a bundle of roots and stalks, and dragged Lance the last few inches to him. Lance went limp, body shaking, armor rattling, and Shiro wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held on. Lance's head sank toward him, slow, inevitable. He might have been aiming for Shiro's shoulder, but he missed. Eventually he fell still, curled up against Shiro with his head leaning on his chest like a kid seeking shelter from a storm.

"I'm sorry," Lance was whispering, low and tight and almost inaudible, over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"You're okay." Shiro's hands clenched around his back. "You did good. You did fine, soldier. Don't be sorry. You're okay, you're okay."

Lance went quiet, just breathing. Shiro listened to him and to the sky above. Even through two layers of armor, he could feel the heat of Lance's body. He was like a furnace. In a jungle.

It occurred to him, and he hated the thought, that this might be good. Lance's body heat was off from human norm, and they were sitting so close that their signatures would bleed together. If the Galra scanners were just a little less delicate than they could be, just a little outdated on human physiology, this might work for them. They might be able to get away right under their noses. Or whatever passed for noses on robots.

The ships were here. Shiro went still, frozen under the leaves like a rodent under glass. Even while Lance struggled for breath, Shiro had stopped breathing entirely. He heard the Galra roar by above his head, so loud and close that the sound filled the world. He heard nothing else, felt nothing else, knew nothing else. Just the sound of that ship, searching for him, bearing down on him, claws reaching out to grasp, to capture, to drag him back...

"Shiro..." Lance's hand had crept up and wrapped around Shiro's neck. His fingers tightened. "Shiro..."

It all felt surreal, distant. Shiro couldn't believe this was happening to him again, so maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was happening to someone else, to a Shiro who lived in his skin but wasn't him. He wasn't Shiro the prisoner anymore, the gladiator, the Champion, the test subject. He was Shiro the paladin, the leader, the pilot of the black lion, the guardian of the sky. This wasn't him, so it wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Please don't let it be happening again.

Lance's fingernails dug into his neck. His breath was harsh and loud under the leaves. "Shiro, stay with me."

The ships roared by overhead. They were coming back for another pass.

He curled his flesh-and-blood hand around Lance's head, pressing him to his chest, and his other arm tightened around Lance's waist. He had to keep him close. Had to keep him safe. Had to save this one the way he hadn't been able to save the other one, that kid, so long ago and far away, the one who was excited about finding bacteria in ice, the one who cried when his father was taken away, the one who almost fainted from terror when they dragged him to the arena.

"Shiro, you have to breathe." Lance was clutching him back, just as tight, just as desperate. Shiro felt Lance's hand shake where it was pressed against his skin. He was trying so hard. Breath rushed into Shiro's lungs, dizzying him. He gulped again. It felt like fire.

And the ships roared by overhead.

It went on for a long time. In the end, Shiro didn't know if he was holding on to Lance, or if Lance was holding on to him. Maybe it was both.

The Galra didn't come. After what felt like years, decades, eons, but was probably no more than twenty minutes or so, the drone ships completed their grid search of the field of leafy plants and shrieked away over the horizon again. Shiro knew they should get up and run again, leave the area as quickly as possible, because if the scanners had detected them, the patrols would be coming on foot to capture them very, very soon.

But he couldn't move. Neither could Lance, apparently. They stayed where they were, still pretzeled around each other, Shiro hunched over Lance with his face ducked down into that sweaty thatch of brown hair while Lance curled up against his chest and wheezed. They were both having trouble breathing, though for vastly different reasons. "You're okay," Shiro murmured whenever he could manage the breath, and "Stay with me," Lance demanded in return, weak and shaky.

The patrols on foot didn't come. Maybe Shiro's desperate gambit had worked. Maybe their two heat signatures blending together under the leaves, too high for human norm, had fooled the scanners. 

Or maybe they were just too far away from the main Galra force for easy capture. Maybe the soldiers were on the way and would get here soon.

Eventually, the light shining down through the rare gaps in the leaves began to soften, and Shiro knew that it was something like late afternoon on this planet. Had they survived? Maybe they had survived.

"Shiro." Lance's voice was as calm and steady as it had been for a long time. He had regained his breath, as much as he could of it. "We need to move. We need to find a place to camp before nightfall. There are more big trees beyond this field. We can make another shelter."

"They might come back," Shiro murmured.

"I know," Lance said. "Or they might not. They scanned this area already, and nothing's come for us. I think we fooled 'em."

Shiro swallowed. Of course he had understood what Shiro was doing, eventually. Still, Lance hadn't moved away from Shiro when the noise of the ships disappeared. He was still holding on to him.

"Shiro, please. We have to move. We need to eat more of those terrible, terrible rations."

Shiro released a dry chuckle. "I thought you hated those."

"I do. But I realize that we need to keep up our strength." Lance shifted uncomfortably in his arms. "Also, I would like to get out of this armor again, if possible. I'm really hot, and it's hard to move."

"Oh. Sorry." Shiro's hands loosened from Lance's head and side, though more reluctantly than he wanted to admit, and he shifted in preparation of sitting back.

Lance didn't let go of his neck. "I didn't say I wanted to stop cuddling. I said the armor is uncomfortable."

"This is cuddling to you?"

"As close as I'm likely to get."

Shiro chuckled again. "Fair enough. But we'll have to move to get you out of the armor. You're like a dog with a ball, wanting me to throw it for you but not wanting to let go."

"Ugh. You're so logical."

Lance's voice had gotten fuzzy and distant again, like it had last night when he'd been dreaming of his brother. Maybe he wasn't as coherent as Shiro had presumed. Shiro could still feel the heat radiating from Lance's head, even against the sweltering background of the jungle, so his fever had to be ridiculous at this point. And his hand on the back of Shiro's neck was cold.

"Do you want me to carry you?" Shiro asked. "I can carry you."

"Nooooo, I can walk." Lance's voice was almost as reluctant as Shiro felt. But finally, slowly, he drew back from Shiro and settled himself in the loam, his hands at his sides. He knelt there, his back slumping and bowed, but he seemed bright-eyed and relatively alert, so Shiro was taking that as a win.

Shiro started crawling toward the path, trusting Lance to follow. "All right, let's go build a shelter."

"You mean you'll build a shelter while I nap in the dirt." Lance's voice followed directly behind, just as Shiro had hoped.

He smiled, even though Lance couldn't see his face. "Yeah, that's exactly what I mean."

At some point, his hands had stopped shaking. Shiro was grateful for small favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Look at this incredible artwork for the hiding scene.](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/150215122606/glitchikinnsblog-shiro-lances-hand-had) I am breathless, it's so gorgeous.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I'm about halfway through a long writing project, my brain starts insisting that I collect all the songs I've been listening to that remind me of the story. And I make a playlist and then listen to it on loop for the rest of the time I'm working on that particular project. So here's a playlist for this story: [Boom Crash](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLelj9LO80m3sHoUKb81YMKutadxt78idh). Update: Also now on 8tracks if you like that platform: [Boom Crash again](http://8tracks.com/maychorian/boom-crash).
> 
> Not all of the songs are serious, but some are very serious indeed.
> 
> Come yell at me on the tumble box here: [maychorian](http://maychorian.tumblr.com). These days I reblog about 50/50 Haikyuu and Voltron.

It took another half hour to get out of the field of giant-leaved plants. Part of that was because it was a really big field, and part of it was because Lance was moving just that slow. Shiro tried not to get impatient, tried to go at Lance's pace—and Lance's rough, hitching breath practically in his ear was certainly a reminder that he couldn't push too hard—but he could see the trees steadily drawing nearer ahead, and he really, really wanted to get there.

Once they reached the trees, though, Shiro realized another reason that the journey had seemed to take so long. They had seen the trees from much farther away than they might have, and had assumed that they were closer than they were, because the trees were unbelievably gigantic. About five minutes away from the treeline, Shiro and Lance both ground to a halt, just staring up at the trees. And up. And up.

They seemed to be a different species than the mangrove-like tree they'd stayed at last night, the roots not so high and exposed. This species had evolved to have a huge system of spreading branches instead of mighty roots. Each one spread out high above their heads as if trying to provide a roof for the world. And while Shiro had thought that last night's tree was big enough to build a house in, these seemed big enough for mansions.

"I wonder if...the gravity is lighter here than on Earth," Lance mused aloud, catching a breath partway through. "The trees are all so...big. And those plants, too. They kinda remind me of...like...lily pads. But way, _way_ bigger. And not in water. And with really tall stalks. The leaves though. Like flat green plates. Really big."

Shiro nodded along. Lance was rambling, but Shiro didn't mind. At least he could still talk. That had to be a good sign. "Let's go pick a tree to camp under," he said, tugging Lance forward again.

They moved into the trees. Lance tilted his head upward, staring at the branches above with his mouth hanging open. Every breath rattled in his chest, but he didn't seem to notice. "Mmm, look at the...arm branches."

Shiro went still, his eyebrows rising. "Arm...branches?" He turned to face Lance, suddenly worried. Just how delirious had he gotten?

"Yeah. They look like arms." Lance pointed straight up, still staring almost without blinking. Shiro followed the movement, then found himself staring, too.

Yeah, they kinda did look like arms. Each enormous branch was bare at the trunk, then grew out in a straight line until at the end it suddenly expanded into a big ball of red and golden leaves. It was like an arm being held straight out from the body with the fingers spread. It helped that the branches were a pale beige, not far off from human skin. The branches at the bottom of the tree grew out the farthest before the leaves appeared, with each branch above slightly shorter, so the bundles of leaves were tiered, all catching maximum sunlight.

Even the lowest branch was far above their heads. Probably two city stories up. But suddenly, Shiro had an idea.

"Lance." He looked back to his companion's face. "Let's not camp under a tree this time."

Lance slowly lowered his head to stare at him, reluctant to look away from trees. "What...what are you talking about?"

Shiro pointed up, a grin taking over his face. "Let's camp up there instead."

Lance looked up, his face twisting in thought, then looked back to Shiro. "You wanna build a treehouse? I mean, I'm not saying those branches aren't great for a treehouse, because they totally are, but how are we even gonna get stuff up there? It's...it's so tall."

"Lance, focus." Shiro took his shoulders in his hands and shook him, very gently. The poor guy really was getting delirious. They needed to get somewhere he could rest pretty much five hours ago. "We're not building a house. We're just gonna camp. Those branches are huge. Easily two or three yards across. Once we get up there, we can spread out. And we'll be safe from..." Probably most predators, provided they weren't already in the trees. But definitely Galra foot patrols. "We'll be safe."

"Okay." Lance looked up again, slow, wondering, letting the idea tick over in his brain. Then he looked back to Shiro. "But how."

Shiro stood back from him with a smile and thumped his own back. "My jetpack is still working. It's only meant for short bursts, but it will get me up there. And then I can lower a cable and haul you up." When Shiro had inventoried their gear yesterday, he had sincerely considering throwing out the little winch-and-cables that came with each of their suits to save the weight of carrying them. He was glad he hadn't now.

Lance gave another slow blink. "Oh, that Luke Skywalker thing?"

Shiro frowned, then remembered the first movie, where Luke had thrown up a belt-rigged cable to get himself and Leia over a chasm. "Yeah, that thing."

"Huh. Okay. Say, how do you think he made that on the first shot? Wasn't that a really difficult throw?"

"He had the Force, Lance," Shiro said patiently. "Now, I'm gonna fly up into a tree. Can you wait for me?"

"Oh." Lance considered the question carefully, then nodded. "Yeah. But..." He looked around, and a little more coherence bled into his expression. "Not here, though." He looked back to Shiro and gave him a very serious look. "We need to find a bigger tree."

Shiro looked around, then back to Lance. "A bigger tree? Really?"

Lance nodded again. "The biggest tree. We need the tallest tree. So we can get up the highest." A wistful look stole over his face. "Maybe we'll be able to see the lions."

Shiro doubted that. But Lance was right. If they were going to set up a tactical position, instead of just building a random shelter for the night, they should find the best spot possible. Somewhere near fresh water would be good, too.

"Okay, good point," he said. He pulled Lance's arm over his shoulder again. "Let's look for the tallest tree."

"Awesome. We should go along the tree line, so we can have line of sight over the field."

Shiro tilted his head. "Also a good point. All right then, let's go...left."

"Left it is."

They set off. As yesterday, Shiro did his best to pour all of his awareness into his physical senses, watching, feeling, smelling. It was more difficult with an injured teammate hanging off his shoulder sucking in noisy, rattling breaths, but Shiro managed. Eventually, he thought he caught a whiff of water and steered Lance in that direction. Lance followed without a murmur, entirely occupied in staring up into the trees. Shiro wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, since it seemed to him that looking at the size of the trunk would be their best bet for finding the tallest tree, but he didn't try to stop him.

Then Lance came to a stumbling halt, staring up at a particular tree with awe shining in his face. "There. That's the one."

Shiro paused and looked up with him. This tree did seem even taller than most of the monstrosities they had passed, but he was a little amazed that Lance had managed to pick it out in his fever-dazed state. "Why do you think so?"

"Look." Lance pointed up at the leaves of his chosen tree, then to the next one over. "I noticed that the taller trees have more golden leaves than red. This one has the most I've seen yet."

"Oh." Shiro saw that it was true. When he looked at the trunk of the tree, that also seemed massive, but not noticeably more so than the tree next to it. "That's really smart, Lance."

Lance beamed at him, unabashedly pleased by the praise. "I know, right? I'm pretty awesome."

Shiro had no trouble admitting truth when he saw it. "Yeah, you are." He tugged on Lance's hand, still hanging over his shoulder. "C'mon, big guy. Let's get closer to the trunk, and I'll look for a good place to fly up."

From there, it was just a matter of logistics. Shiro reached the trunk and leaned Lance against it like a toy soldier propped against a wall, then moved around the massive girth looking for what seemed to him to be the widest branch with the easiest approach that still had line of sight over the field. He also followed the scent of water until he found a stream about ten minutes' walk farther into the trees, refilled the water bag, then headed back to Lance.

"Okay, buddy. I found a good spot to get up. I'll leave the stuff with you to make sure the jetpack uses as little fuel as possible, then haul the stuff up, then you. Sounds good?"

Lance nodded. He was leaning on the tree with one hand, and while Shiro stood there watching, he knocked on it with his other fist. "Hear that? I think the tree is hollow."

Shiro's eyebrows bent together. "That's...useful?"

Lance shook his head. "Probably not. But it's kinda neat." His face was practically glowing with fever now. Shiro wasn't sure how much longer he was going to last.

"Okay. Let's make camp up in the tree."

He didn't care if Lance objected. He really wanted to carry him at this point. But Lance started walking on his own, not even leaning on Shiro's shoulder for the moment, and Shiro couldn't begrudge him his independence. He found the spot he had picked and offloaded the gear he was carrying, then stepped a few paces away so he wouldn't catch Lance in the jetwash.

He had to put his gloves back on for the jetpack controls, which were built into the fingers and thumbs. Then he looked to Lance, who gave him an encouraging nod. Shiro looked up into the tree, took a breath, widened his stance, and ignited the jetpack.

The trip felt longer than he'd expected. He'd only used the jetpack for very short bursts before, more for manuevering than propulsion, and he wasn't sure how many trips like this the suit could perform without a recharge at the Castle of Lions. But he made it. The branch he had chosen looked almost as ideal as he had hoped it would be—strong, broad, and so wide that it was almost flat on top. If they had a tent in their gear, he could set it up here. As long as he and Lance didn't do anything nuts, they shouldn't be in any danger of falling off.

Shiro got down on his stomach on the edge of the branch and looked down at Lance. "Okay?" he called.

Lance didn't bother yelling back. He probably couldn't with his lungs as jacked up as they were. He just gave Shiro a nod and a thumb's up. Shiro gave him a thumb's up back, then twisted on his side to pull out the cable and winch attached to his suit. He found a protuding knot nearby to use as an anchor point and wrapped the cable around it, then tossed the slack down to Lance.

This part turned out to be harder than the jet ride. Pulling up the gear was easy enough, but when Shiro lowered the cable back down for Lance, both of them had a moment of puzzlement as they tried to figure out how to attach it. He couldn't just wrap it around his waist. Not only would having just one point of connection on his body hurt like crazy, but the system might not even work with such paltry leverage.

But then Lance looked up at Shiro and gave him an enthusiastic nod and two thumb's up, then started doing something with his suit. When he was done, Shiro could see that Lance had found a built-in connection point on his armor. The Alteans thought of everything. Lance wrapped one hand around the cable and leaned back on his heels, just like he was sitting in a harness, and Shiro felt the tug of his weight. Shiro spread his limbs on the branch. It was a good thing that he was heavier than Lance, otherwise this might not work. Lance gave him another thumb's up, and Shiro started the winch.

The machine made a lot of noise. Shiro did his best to hold himself steady, but he found himself looking at the anchor point, watching for a slip. He thought he had set the cable securely, but who knew how strong an alien tree was, especially if it was hollow. That was a mistake. When he took his attention off his own stance for a split second, he slid on the trunk.

Just a little, and he immediately caught himself, but he felt the jerking on the line as Lance bounced around down there. It felt awful for both of them, he was sure, and Shiro had to lay flat on the branch and press his face to the smooth, beige bark as he caught his breath. After a moment, he pulled himself together and looked back down to Lance's face. Lance was almost translucent, his expression blank with terror.

He didn't make a noise, though. Didn't try to call it off. His hands looked frozen around the cable, but otherwise he hung limply on the line as the winch slowly ground its way home. As soon as Lance was within arm's length, Shiro reached down and snatched his hand, now reaching desperately for him, then hauled him up bodily the rest of the way.

They sprawled next to each other on the branch, flat on their backs with their arms spread. They concentrated on breathing, both shaky and strained. "Sorry," Shiro choked out after a bit. "I should have realized... That was harder than it should have been."

"Let's...let's never do that again," Lance said. His voice sounded awful.

"Fair enough. Next time...a shelter at the bottom of a tree will do."

Lance gulped in several more breaths, then rocked his head from side to side in negation. "No, I mean... Let's stay up here. Until the Galra find us or the others take us home."

"Lance..."

Shiro bit down the words. They would have to run again, unless rescue came almost immediately. What choice did they have? The Galra...the Galra were just going to keep coming. They couldn't risk two lions falling into Galra hands, to say nothing of their own lives.

Lance suddenly sat up on the branch, his breath ragged, too fast, his body shaking. He hauled at the breast plate of his armor with a desperate intensity that shocked Shiro into sitting up, too, watching him with alarm. "Help me... Help me get this off, I can't breathe, I can't..." Lance's voice was thready and faint, and it was the scariest thing Shiro had ever heard.

"Okay, okay. No problem, I've got you!"

Shiro reached out. Lance's hands were shaking so badly that nothing seemed to be working for him. Shiro grabbed his hands, squeezed them, and waited until he steadied a bit, until Lance was looking into Shiro's eyes with his entire body heaving for breath. Then Shiro let go of his hands and set to work removing the armor himself. Having done it once before, he found all the hidden little catches and connections quickly, and soon Lance's armor was in a pile beside him.

"Better?"

Lance nodded, though his eyes were fluttering and he seemed a split second away from passing out where he sat. His entire body slumped, but his breathing seemed to have settled, at least a little bit. Then he suddenly doubled over as he was wracked with terrible, splitting coughs. His hands clutched at his chest, fingers scrabbling as if he could dig inside himself and drag out the thing that was causing him this overwhelming pain. And it just went on, cough after horrible cough rattling his body and tearing his lungs.

Shiro's hands found Lance's shoulders again, and he bore down, trying to hold him steady. Lance's head was bowed almost to his stomach. He let go of his chest with one hand and pounded his fist beside him on the branch. Then he suddenly straightened, his eyes wide and wild, and wrenched his shoulders free of Shiro's hands as he dragged himself sideways. His hands slapped down, holding him off the surface, and he hacked up something thick and green and sludgy and spat it out. It smelled like death.

"Lance!" Shiro heard his own voice. It hardly seemed to belong to him, it was so high and terrified.

Lance raised a hand and waved at him, though he was still bent over, heaving and hacking. "I'm...fine..."

"You don't sound fine!"

Lance shook his head. After a moment, he spat again, but nothing came out. Lance groaned and fell over onto his back next to the pile of armor, as far away from the sputum as he could get without straining himself. His eyes were wide and distant, but the terrible coughing had finally stopped.

"Lance..." Shiro crawled closer to him, moving up to his head to look down into his face. He was breathing fast, too.

Lance looked up at him. His eyelids fluttered, but he seemed coherent. "It's okay. I used to get...bronchitis as a kid. This is like that." He folded his hands tenderly over his rib cage, his face twisting in pain. He kept having to stop every few words and take a breath. "Worse, though."

Shiro couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt to cough like that with a bruised body and cracked ribs. "Lance, I'm so sorry."

Lance rocked his head from side to side. "Not your fault. You've saved my life like...five times...in the past two days."

"I still feel bad."

Lance smiled. It was almost incredible. "That's because...you're a good leader. The best."

Shiro laughed. He couldn't help it. He felt tears squeeze out the corners of his eyes.

"Could you...do me a favor, fearless leader?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Help me...sit against the trunk. I think it...might be better."

"You got it."

That night, Lance threw up the two bites of ration bar he managed to eat. Shiro didn't force him to eat more. But he felt the countdown start.

They were running out of time.


	7. Chapter 7

It was not an easy night. After he threw up the little bit of food he'd choked down, Lance was agitated for a while, then so exhausted that he could barely move. All he could do was lean limply against the trunk behind his back, his limbs loose. Shiro got him to drink more water, watching anxiously in case that made him nauseated, too, but eventually Lance settled enough that Shiro felt safe tucking the blanket around him again. 

"I know it hurts, but try to rest," Shiro said. It was almost physically painful to listen to Lance breathe, to watch his chest hitch and struggle. "You need to get as much sleep as possible." It was the only thing available to them that could offer any kind of healing.

Lance nodded, his chin sinking toward his chest. "Are you...gonna keep watch?"

"Yeah." The headache behind Shiro's right eye sharpened at the thought of another sleepless night, but it couldn't be helped. They were alone and vulnerable on an alien planet. Someone had to watch for the danger they didn't know was coming.

Shiro had been crouching next to Lance on the branch. Now he leaned back on his heels and turned his body sideways so he could point down along the branch to the mass of leaves at the end. "I checked that part of the tree out earlier. There's some good structure there, some branches that look like regular branches instead of a tree trunk attached to a bigger tree trunk."

Lance smiled faintly. He had described the branch they were currently sitting on that way, back before he had tried to eat. 

Shiro smiled back. "It'll make a good lookout point. I'm gonna set up there, but I'll never be far away, okay? If you need something, call. I'll come back."

Lance nodded. His eyes were already drifting shut. Shiro watched him anxiously for a moment. What if Lance didn't even have the strength to call out? Maybe they should set up some kind of signal system.

But Lance was already asleep. Shiro didn't have the heart to wake him, not for that. He would just have to ask him later. Shiro already knew that he was going to be checking on Lance frequently.

Not without a few backward glances, Shiro set off down the branch. He had taken off a good portion of his armor, too—it really was uncomfortable after two days of sweating in a sticky jungle, despite the heat regulation—but he carried his helmet along with him. Maybe... Maybe the rest of the team would contact them again. Maybe this time they would be coming to take them home.

The last shreds of sunlight were fading from the sky as Shiro made his way into the mass of leaves and found a good spot where he could sit with his back supported and as much line of sight as possible. He idly wondered how many hours were in this planet's day. It seemed shorter than Earth, but not greatly so. He didn't know how many hours he'd been awake, but it felt similar to thirty-six or so. Then again, the stress of the situation could be skewing his perception.

Well, it didn't matter. Shiro had to stay awake. He stared over the field of giant leaves, his eyesight good enough to let him watch all the way to the trees on the other side. As night descended, stars began to appear. He hadn't been able to see them last night, looking out the opening of a shelter into a jungle.

The planet had several moons, all in different phases. Some were far away and some were close, but none were as big and close as Earth's moon. They gave plenty of light to see by, silvery blue over the giant leaves. It was probably never fully dark on this planet. The air felt good up here, cooler and lighter than it had been on the ground, and even the smell wasn't as bad. Give it a few hours, and Shiro might have to go back to the gear and fetch the other foil blanket for himself.

The multiple moons and the unfamiliar constellations above reminded Shiro that he was far from home. As if the giant tree he was sitting in wasn't reminder enough. Still, he couldn't help the pang of homesickness and grief in his heart.

He hadn't seen his family for such a...such a long time. A lifetime, it felt like. Throughout his captivity to the Galra, one thought that had kept him going was the desperate hope—no, more like wish—that he might someday be able to go home and see his parents and little brother and sister again. Though he had eventually escaped and even made it all the way back to Earth, he hadn't seen his family. They probably didn't even know he was alive, since Galaxy Garrison was no doubt keeping his brief return a top secret. 

"Shiro?" Lance's voice, barely above a murmur. Shiro turned toward the sound in surprise and found that Lance had crept out to meet him. He was crouched at the edge of the mass of leaves, holding a slender branch next to his shoulder with a white-knuckled grip. His face was pale in the moonlight, and his expression was anxious.

"What are you doing here? I told you to sleep." Shiro didn't mean his voice to be quite as sharp as it came out. 

"Sorry." Lance pressed a hand to his chest, grimacing as his entire body hitched. "I tried, but...s'lonely back there."

Shiro slumped, his irritation running away, just like that. "You were lonely?"

"Yeah." Lance grimaced again, his breath halting for a moment before it went on. "Sorry."

Shiro sighed and rose from his position. He reached out for Lance, one hand holding firm to a branch the size of his leg. "Come on, then. I'm sorry, too. I thought you would be more comfortable leaning against the trunk."

Lance let go of the branch he was holding and took Shiro's hand, his grip as strong as he could make it, and Shiro used the leverage to pull him into his nesting spot. The branch was still plenty wide enough even out here for the two of them to rest side by side. Shiro dragged Lance in and set him down in the lookout point, pressing lightly down on his shoulders to urge him to sit. Safely ensconced, Lance looked around with wide eyes, taking in the stars and the moons and the sight of the field.

"Wow, there's a breeze." Lance looked up at Shiro hopefully. "Yeah, leaning against the trunk was...was good. But maybe...I could lean against you instead?"

Shiro blinked, his eyebrows rising. "Oh." Lance really hadn't been kidding earlier when he'd said he didn't want to stop cuddling. Poor kid. "Okay. Yeah. We can do that."

He sat down next to Lance, back in that spot with the good branch to support his back. "Did you at least bring your blanket?"

"Yeah." Lance held up his other hand, where the foil blanket was badly crumpled. Shiro chuckled and took it from him, then put his arm around Lance's shoulders as Lance scooted closer to him and slumped against his side. Shiro wrapped the blanket around them both, and Lance rested his head on Shiro's shoulder with a slow, drawn-out sigh.

"Better?"

"Yeah." Lance's voice was breathy and faint, but it wasn't hard to hear the relief in it. "Is this okay?"

"It's okay. It's more than okay." Shiro lifted his other hand and carded it through Lance's hair. "I feel better having you close, too."

"Really?"

Shiro chuckled quietly. "Really. I was worried about leaving you so far away."

"Oh." Lance was quiet for a moment, staring out at the field. He was almost boneless against Shiro now, though his breath still hitched and stuttered. "Shiro, could I...tell you something?"

"Of course, kiddo. Anything."

"You remind me of...my big brother. Javier."

A lump rose in Shiro's throat. "Is that...a good thing?"

"Yeah. Javier is...my hero. Always was since I was...really little. He was always so strong and so smart and so cool... He was this...this light I could see in front of me, that I was always chasing...but...but could never catch. And that wasn't...a bad thing. Having a goal is...important."

"Was he a good big brother to you?" Shiro hoped that whoever this Javier was, that he'd appreciated having a kid like Lance looking up to him. Being strong and smart and cool didn't mean anything if you were a jerk to your little brother.

"Yeah. He was awesome. He called me Squirt and ruffled my hair a lot. Calls. He still does. I just...haven't seen him in a long time."

Lance's voice was sad. Shiro squeezed his shoulders. "I'm sure he misses you," he murmured.

"Yeah." Lance concentrated on breathing for a moment. "He went to school three years before I did. West Point. We were all...so proud."

"I bet."

"And then I went to Galaxy Garrison and... The Kerberos mission. You were the youngest pilot ever selected, for...the longest expedition ever attempted, and... Javier is still my hero. But you became my hero, too."

Shiro couldn't speak. 

"And then I met you, and... You turned out to be even better than I thought. You're...so cool, Shiro. I'm really happy I got to meet you. To be on your team."

Shiro wasn't sure he liked this. "Lance..."

Lance shifted against him. "Listen. There's something else. It's hard to talk, but...I gotta tell you."

Shiro went still. "Okay. I'm listening."

"If...if it comes down to a choice... I want you to get away."

Shiro stiffened. "Lance..."

"No, listen." Lance shifted against his side, seeming to draw up his strength for speaking. "I know I'm...not doing good. I keep trying not to cough...because it just hurts and...doesn't do any good. My body is getting...worn out. And if...if the Galra come again... When they come...you have to run."

Shiro heard a whimper. It was his own. His arm was so tight around Lance's shoulders that it had to be hurting him. "Stop..."

"You have to...you have to get away, Shiro. You're the head. You're the only... I know you guys were all upset when...when Pidge wanted to leave, but... It wasn't completely stupid. Other pilots must exist, somewhere...in this huge universe. Blue is...Blue is the nicest lion. She'll accept someone else. I bet Allura is an amazing pilot, if you need a temp."

"Lance, stop this."

"I'm not...I'm not a genius like Hunk and Pidge. And as much as it...pains me to admit...I'm not a brilliant pilot like Keith. I'm just...me. So if it comes to a choice..."

"Lance." The word came out as a sob, choked and agonized. Lance went still against him, just breathing. Shiro lifted his other hand and dug it through Lance's hair again. "Stop this, Lance. Stop... Okay, I listened to you. Now you have to listen to me."

"I wouldn't...let them in. I wouldn't let them get Blue, if that's what you're thinking..."

"No, stop. That's not what this is about." Shiro pressed his hand against Lance's head. He felt the heat of his fever, felt his trembling, felt every short, harsh breath. "Do you know who you are, Lance? Do you have any idea?"

"I'm...Lance..."

Shiro nodded, just short of frantic. "That's right, you're Lance. You're...yeah, you can be annoying, and you flirt with people you'll never have a chance with, and sometimes you bite off more than you can chew. You drive us all crazy sometimes. But you're not just another pilot, Lance. You are not replaceable. You're...I can't believe you never noticed this, but you're basically the glue that holds this team together, kiddo. Keith is too much of a loner, and Hunk and Pidge get caught up in their projects, and I... I have my own problems. You're always the one who wants to hang out and...and bond...good grief, you're always talking about bonding, what the..." He had to laugh, and again he felt the tears at the corners of his eyes. 

Lance shifted uncomfortably. "Shiro..."

"No, I'm not done. Listen. You think I didn't notice what you've been doing the past two days while we've been stuck in this pit of stinking garbage? Every time I start to...to fade out, to lose myself... You're always there. You make a dumb comment, you grab my attention, you make me laugh... You've been bringing me out of it, every single time. I don't know if it's instinct or if you've dealt with someone with my kind of problems before, or if you just care that much... But I know what you've been doing. And I am so, so grateful, Lance, I can't even tell you how grateful... Yesterday, in that field..."

Lance made a noise. Shiro stroked his head, then left his hand in his hair, pressing close. 

"And I'm not the only one. You do that for everyone. You make us yell, you make us laugh, you make us cry... You are so, so important, Lance. We cannot afford to lose you. We just can't. We can't replace you."

They were both crying now. It had to be hurting Lance's chest, since Shiro could feel it hurting his own, but neither of them could stop. Shiro held him as tight as he dared. 

"So...so I don't want to hear you say that again. Okay, Lance? Never again. Don't tell me to make a choice. Don't ask me to do that. I can't. I won't. We're both getting out of this. Together. There is no other option."

"But...but the Galra..."

"I don't care. They don't matter." Shiro felt almost ridiculously reckless, saying something like that. That was another thing Lance could do—he could make calculating Shiro, anxious Shiro, fearful Shiro throw caution to the wind and leap in head first. Just like he had leapt down to this planet, following the blue lion. "We'll figure it out. We'll find a way. I told you already that I'm not gonna leave you behind. I meant it then, and I mean it now."

"But..."

"No. Stop." Shiro ducked his face into Lance's hair and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt Lance struggling to breathe, and it hurt. It hurt like nothing he'd ever felt before. "Listen. You said I remind you of Javier, right?"

"Yeah..."

"If it was him... If the two of you were stuck somewhere, stuck on an alien planet with enemies coming after you and nowhere to run... Do you think Javier would leave you behind? Would you ever ask him to?"

Lance was silent for a moment, just his breath hitching in his chest. Eventually, though, he had to admit the truth. "No... I wouldn't, because...he never would. It would just...upset him. If I asked."

"Okay. Then that's it. Okay, Lance? Javier is far away, but I'm here. My little brother and little sister are far away, but you're here. You're with me, I'm with you. We're gonna stick together, kiddo. We're gonna figure this out. Don't even let yourself imagine anything else, because it's not gonna happen. We're getting out of this together. Okay?"

"I..." Lance breathed. "Okay."

"Okay." Shiro sat up from the branch and kicked the blanket down and pulled Lance to him, chest to chest, heart to heart, holding him close. Lance put his arms around Shiro in return and sagged against him, breathing rough and broken. He pressed his damp face to Shiro's shoulder and cried.

Shiro didn't let it go on for long. It was too difficult for Lance to breathe. But he held it for as long as he could.

They were getting out of this. The determination was like a fire inside him, lighting him up from head to toe. It didn't matter what obstacles stood in their way, a Galra fleet, a Galra army, an entire planet that wanted to drown them and roast them and kill them with disease.

They were going to survive. Both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart! [Lance and Shiro hug](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/148227165381/haikyuusetters-maychorian-thank-you-for)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the reviews on the last chapter, like just, wow. Awesome. I really appreciate it.

Shiro had been afraid that he would have trouble keeping awake through his second night on watch. But the fiery determination that had filled him after his talk with Lance was enough to fuel him for several hours, even after Lance fell asleep curled into Shiro's side still wrapped securely in Shiro's flesh-and-blood arm. When that began to fade, there was Lance's noisy breathing to keep him awake, which was infinitely more uncomfortable.

He kept carefully shifting Lance's position, trying to find something that would help him sleep even a little more peacefully, but nothing seemed to work. By the time the sun began to creep over the far horizon, Shiro had basically made himself into a tree. He cradled Lance with both arms around his waist, Lance's back to Shiro's chest, his head tipped back on Shiro's shoulder. It seemed to work the best if Shiro kept his body at a shallow angle, holding Lance on a recline. Not that there was a lot of difference. Maybe Shiro was just fooling himself that Lance's breath seemed to be coming ever so slightly easier.

The worst part was how...irregular it was. People weren't supposed to breathe like that, especially when they were asleep. Sometimes Lance's breath wheezed in his throat, and sometimes it seemed to rattle from his lungs. There would be several short breaths in a row, then a long one, and then it would just...stop...for a second or two, or more, before going on. Shiro kept finding himself unconsciously holding his breath when that happened, as if he was trying to feel what Lance was feeling. It was stupid and it hurt, but he couldn't help himself.

Shiro was also aware that Lance kept waking up. Never for very long, and he usually didn't even open his eyes, but Shiro could almost always tell when it happened. Lance would go still suddenly, and his breath would pause in a different way than when his body would do it on its own. Then he would sigh, turn his head toward Shiro, and fade out again. Sometimes he mumbled in his sleep, mostly words Shiro couldn't make out. But sometimes they were the names of their teammates back at the castle, and sometimes they were names that Shiro was pretty sure were his siblings'. He definitely heard "Nicky" and "Javier" in there. And once, just once, he said _Mamá_ in the saddest, most heartbreaking voice Shiro had ever heard. Shiro held him tighter and tilted his head against Lance's sweaty hair, his heart aching.

Worse were the sudden fits of coughing. There were five of them over the course of the night. They were all distressingly similar. Lance would suddenly choke, seemingly on nothing, then shoot out of Shiro's arms and double over, hacking and hacking. It was so...loud. There was this deep, awful honking noise in his chest, as if an animal had gotten in there and was trying to dig its way deeper. Lance hacked and spat, and sometimes some phlegm came out, but usually there was nothing. Then he fell back against Shiro, panting and gasping, his entire body shaking madly. Shiro put his arms back around him and supported him as carefully as he could until Lance went limp, his breath rasping in his throat like a broken thing. Then he would go back to sleep, but it seemed like passing out, a sudden loss of consciousness, as if life was being ripped from him bit by precious bit.

It was terrifying. Shiro really didn't know if this night of so-called "rest" was doing any good for Lance at all. So, yeah, all told, Shiro didn't have a hard time staying awake. Sleep wasn't even a remote possibility.

That didn't mean his body didn't feel it, though. By the time sunlight rolled back around to this side of the planet, Shiro knew that the sleep-deprivation was sapping him badly. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, even performing such simple tasks as shifting Lance's dead weight against his body. Worse, his mind kept getting caught in terrible little loops. He thought about what to do if a Galra patrol came, how they could possibly escape, and then gibbering fear would overtake him, screaming in his ear until he beat it under control by main brute force. He stared out over the field of giant leaves, letting the moonlight and the cool breeze calm him. And then he would look at the far-off forest and wonder if he would be able to hear the tramp of robotic feet from here, and it would start over again.

"Ugh." Lance rolled his head on Shiro's shoulder, smacking his lips together. His eyes cracked open and he squinted at the sunlight, sour and disgruntled. "There are birds here."

Shiro, having twisted his head around rather uncomfortably to look in his face, blinked in surprise. "Birds?"

"Yes, birds." Lance frowned enormously. "They're so noisy, ugh. Never...never wanna let a guy...sleep in."

Shiro laughed almost soundlessly, his chest bouncing Lance around a little. "You're delirious, kiddo." He raised a hand and wrapped it around Lance's forehead, checking his temperature, though he really couldn't tell if it had gotten worse or better. It had become a habit over the course of the night, just another thing he did that he wasn't sure was helping at all.

"Nope," Lance said, deliberately slow and distinct. "I've always hated birds."

Shiro remembered how Lance had complained about getting woken up and allowed himself a fond smile. Early mornings were universally loathed by teenagers, it seemed, even teenagers trapped far, far away from home on an alien planet where the greatest threat against them was certainly _not_ the raucous chorus of morning avians.

But yes, it was true that the birds were very noisy here, even more so than they'd been at their stop in the jungle. Shiro looked up into the tiered branches over their heads. The higher reaches of this tree must be home to large flocks of native birds. The tree was certainly big enough to house a multitude of lifeforms in all shapes and sizes.

"Oh." Some of the irritation had fallen away from Lance's voice. "Shiro, look."

Shiro looked forward. Yes, there they were. As the light grew and spread, winged creatures were beginning to swoop from the trees down to the field. The scale was so skewed by the unfamiliar sizes of everything that Shiro had no idea how big the birds were, but they seemed huge. Wingspan of an albatross, or something. They were silhouetted against the pink and gold sunrise, dark shapes without color, but the wings definitely had more joints than bird wings on Earth. The creatures were amazing in their way, free and wheeling in the light and the air. Shiro felt his breath being taken, this time by beauty instead of fear.

"Nice, huh?" Lance sighed softly, leaning his head back on Shiro's shoulder.

"Yeah." Shiro brushed his hair back from his forehead. "You think you could drink some water?"

"Yeah. Please. My mouth feels...really gross. Did I throw up again?"

"No, but you hacked up some more of that green snot. Do you not remember?"

Lance hummed. "Kind of. It's like a...really bad dream."

"Yeah." More and more as the light grew, the night seemed like a bad dream to Shiro, too. Lance was awake and he seemed perfectly coherent, despite his obvious weakness and exhaustion. Shiro's body still felt heavy and weighted down by the need for sleep, but the endless thought loops had gone away as if banished by a sudden shout. Despite everything, hope flowed through Shiro's heart, strengthening his limbs and clearing his mind.

Shiro carefully shifted Lance to the side in preparation of setting him down. "I'll go get the water bag and bring it back, and we can talk about what to do."

"Okay."

Shiro settled Lance against the branch, but before he stood up, a sudden crackling sound interrupted.

"Shiro...Lance... Can you hear me?"

The helmet. Shiro and Lance both whipped their heads around to stare at it, their eyes flying wide. Shiro lunged forward and grabbed the helmet from where it was lodged between two branches, indescribably glad that they hadn't accidentally kicked it off the branch some time during the night. He'd completely forgotten it was there.

"Pidge! Is that you?" Shiro brought the helmet over to Lance and held it between them so they could both hear.

Pidge's voice was immensely relieved. "Shiro! I'm so glad to hear your voice. Are you both there? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're here." Shiro looked up at Lance, who gave him a nod. Shiro looked back at the helmet. "I'm okay. Lance is here too. He's, uh... He's not feeling so good, so I'll do the talking."

"Yeah, we figured. I mean, sorry. We can tell from the BLIP sensor that the two of you are alive, and roughly where you are, and it's even sensitive enough to pick up that Lance's temperature is too high." Pidge's voice went low and determined. "We're gonna come and get you. Soon, I hope."

Shiro closed his eyes in relief for a moment. He'd believed that all along, he truly had. He had never doubted that the others were working as hard as they could to bring them home. But it was still good to hear someone else say it.

He opened his eyes. "Where are you? Are you in the green lion again?" Shiro looked away at the horizon, but he couldn't hear the roar of the lion's engines like he could last time. Where was she?

"Nope, even better." That was Hunk's voice. Shiro looked back to the helmet, his eyes wide, and Lance caught his breath.

"Both of you?" Shiro asked. "How...?"

Pride flooded Hunk's voice, clear even over the tiny voice echoing through the helmet speaker. "We're still on the castle ship. We can talk all we want without fear of interference, because we're triangulated all cool and stuff. Pidge hacked the Galra."

Lance and Shiro looked at each other, then back to the helmet. "Pidge hacked the _Galra?"_

"You're overselling it, Hunk," Pidge scolded. "It's not like I hacked the whole empire, just this one fleet, and it's probably temporary. I mean, it's totally cool, and you guys should definitely throw a party for me when this is over, but you can't just say I _hacked the Galra."_

"Okay, okay." Shiro did his best to interrupt what he could tell was going to be a very long, very technical lecture. "What...what does this mean? And how? How did you do it?"

"Well, it started because of Hunk, actually," Pidge said. "When I ran by you guys yesterday, you know, to drop off the sensor and warn you, Hunk and Keith were fighting up in space. And Hunk got this idea. Hunk, tell 'em."

"Well," Hunk started, his voice a little nervous. "I don't know if it was an _idea_ so much as kind of an _impulse,_ I mean, ugh, I felt like Lance, just rushing in all over the place, not knowing what I was doing, running into things left and right and crashing everywhere..."

Lance made an indignant noise, and there was a sound over the comm like Pidge had slapped Hunk in his big, babbling mouth. "Tell them!"

"Okay, okay, get off me, Pidge, yikes. Okay, so I noticed that some of the Galra ships had more antennae than the others, like they were comm hubs or something. It's not something we've seen in other Galra fleets, but maybe it's different in this sector. So yeah, then I took Yellow and kind of...uh...rushed 'em."

"You'll have to get Keith to tell the story," Pidge said. "It's a lot cooler than Hunk is letting on. And Keith totally gets into space battle stories."

"Right, fine, do that later. So yeah, I rushed the comm ships, and I kind of squished some and shot others and then... I grabbed one."

"You grabbed a Galra ship?" Shiro asked, not sure what he was hearing.

"In Yellow's mouth, yeah. And then I ran back to the Castle of Lions."

"With a whole bunch of drone ships right after him!" Pidge yelled into the mic, almost blowing out the speaker. "There were explosions left and right and lasers all going _pchew pchew pchew_ and Hunk flew right through 'em like a total freaking _hero_ and it was _awesome!"_

"Okay, okay, enough." Hunk was laughing, happy and embarrassed, and Shiro grinned. It was... Wow. It was so good to hear both of their voices.

"Then what happened?" Shiro asked.

"Well, then I took the ship back to Pidge. Pidge, tell 'em what you did."

"I reverse-engineered the Galra comms," Pidge said, her voice just as proud as when she'd been telling the story of Hunk's heroics. "And I figured out how to hack the fleet."

"See?" Hunk said. "Now you're saying it, too."

"Well, it is _technically_ true. Just, you know, probably temporary. And localized. And limited."

Shiro drew a deep breath. "All right. Tell me what this means. Just how limited is it?" And just how powerful?

"Well, I have total control of the Galra communications, at least for now."

That didn't sound limited at all.

Pidge continued. "So what it means is that the drone ships are kind of powerless. Especially the ones down on the planet that have been scanning for you two. They can't send communications back to the fleet, and they can't get orders. So they're all...grounded. For now."

Shiro felt dizzy. He had been crouching on his heels, but now he fell on his butt with a thump. "That...Pidge... Does that mean...?"

"Yeah." And there was that pride. Totally justified. "You guys can rest easy. The Galra have no idea where you are, and all they can send after you are foot patrols. Probably small ones, in groups of two. If you guys can fend off a few foot patrols, you'll be okay. You just gotta find somewhere defensible, like a cave with a narrow opening or something, and keep safe."

"Or a perch up in a giant tree?" Shiro asked, just to hear what she would say.

Pidge's voice went thoughtful. "Oh, yeah. That would be good too. With enough line of sight, you should be able to see them coming for miles."

Shiro almost laughed. "Pidge, this is great news. I'm so... Thank you. Thank you so much."

"It's not gonna last," Pidge cautioned yet again. "The Galra are highly advanced, and they're working nonstop to undo what I did. But I hope... No, I know... By the time they figure it out, we'll have figured out a way to come for you. We're working hard, too."

"I know," Shiro said. "I know. I trust you."

For a moment they were all silent. Shiro and Lance were grinning like idiots, and Shiro knew that Pidge and Hunk probably were, too. Then the speaker crackled again, and Hunk's voice took over.

"Hey, Shiro. Could I talk to Lance?"

"Oh, sure. Of course." Shiro moved the helmet closer to Lance, and Lance reached out and took it, though his hands trembled. Shiro helped him prop it up on his chest so he could speak as easily as possible.

"Hey, Hunk." Lance's voice was raspy and cracked, but as strong as he could make it.

"Hey, buddy. Wow, you sound rough."

"Yeah." Lance didn't bother to elaborate, but his voice was soft and fond. He seemed to feel better just for talking to his long-time friend.

"Yeah, so, I know you aren't feeling good. The BLIP sensor can't tell us everything, but we know the blue lion crashed in a lake, and we know your temperature is too high and your breathing and heart rate are erratic so... Coran thinks probably pneumonia. Is that right?"

Lance could only nod. Shiro leaned closer to speak for him. "Yeah, Hunk. He has pneumonia." His voice was solemn, all the triumph and joy of a few minutes ago hidden away.

Hunk sighed loudly. "That stinks, man. I know...you always got kind of lonesome for home when you were sick at Garrison. So I wanted to tell you... I've got a plan, okay? Coran's been scanning the planet, and he says it has amazing bio-diversity. Like just...lots of plants, all kinds of 'em. So when this is over, when we've defeated the Galra fleet and brought you two home and stuck you in a cryo pod, I'm gonna come down to the planet and do some shopping."

Lance smiled genuinely at this. "Yeah? What for?"

"I'm gonna find something that passes as potatoes, and other stuff that works as spices, and I'm gonna make you some _papas fritas._ I mean, like, the best papas fritas you've ever had in your life. Your mamá is gonna be jealous of my recipe. I am not kidding, dude. The best."

Lance's grin widened. "Big words."

"Yeah, well, I've been wanting to do it for a while, ever since a few weeks ago when you went on that rant about how much you miss potatoes and then had to go hide in Blue for half the day because you got too emotional. So you have to come back to us, right? You have to make it through all the nasty stuff you're going through right now and come back home to the castle so I can make you some papas fritas."

Lance's smile faltered, tears filling his eyes. His hands shook, so Shiro held the helmet firmer for him. "Okay, Hunk. I will."

"We love you, buddy. We're coming for you."

Lance let go of the helmet and swiped at his eyes. "I'll...I'll be waiting."

"Okay. That was all I wanted to say."

Shiro moved the helmet away so Lance could curl up on himself and have a little cry. After a moment of watching him, his heart heavy in his chest, Shiro turned his back on him to give him a little privacy. He held the helmet up to his own chest and whispered into the mic.

"Thank you, Hunk. He really needed that."

"I know," Hunk said, his voice quiet, too. "I know my friend. But you gotta be okay, too, okay, Shiro? You have to come back, too. You're gonna love my papas fritas."

"I'm sure I will," Shiro said. "We'll both be waiting."

"Okay. Good enough."

Shiro took a deep breath, and he believed it. They were coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart! [Lance leaning on Shiro](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/149102348711/lilasianartist-got-recommended-boom-crash-the)


	9. Chapter 9

It turned out that Lance had gotten some good out of the long, uncomfortable night, much to Shiro's surprise. After the call from Hunk and Pidge, and after he'd gotten over his emotional response to Hunk's promise, Lance was downright chipper. He didn't move much, but he smiled and talked as much as he had breath for, and even the flush in his face started to look more like a sign of life than the mark of serious illness it really was.

And then he started getting insistent.

"For pity's sake, Shiro, would you just... _lie down."_

Shiro blinked at him. It was disconcertingly difficult to make his eyes stay open. Every time he blinked, his eyes just wanted to...stay shut. Still, he tried. "No," he said.

They were still sitting in the mass of leaves at the end of the giant branch. There were enough branches and leaves arched over their heads to provide some shade from the rapidly heating sunlight, and the breeze still felt good up here. Plus, great line of sight. Lance didn't want to move back to the trunk, and neither did Shiro. After some discussion, Shiro had gone and fetched the majority of their stuff. He'd also flown down to the forest floor to get more water, so they were well-supplied.

Lance's hands rose in front of his face, stiff-fingered in exasperation. He sucked in a deep, deep breath, noisy and loud and wheezing, then went off. "Just...take a break, would you? Please. We don't have to watch out for Galra ships. They're not gonna be scanning for us, and when they do start to break Pidge's hack, someone from the castle will warn us. You've been awake for two nights in a row and...and it _hurts_ to look at you, man. Your eyes are so bloodshot..." His hands waved in the air as he searched for a comparison, but as usual, Lance didn't have much. He finally blew out a breath and collapsed, his hands falling down. "They are _really_ bloodshot."

Shiro blinked at him again, distantly astonished by the outpouring of words. He hadn't thought Lance had the strength for such discourse. And indeed, the aftermath of the rant left Lance slumping against the bundle of branches at his back, panting and wheezing and clutching his hands in front of his body to keep them from shaking.

"Someone has to keep watch," Shiro said, because it was pretty much the only thought in his head at the moment.

"I will keep watch!" Lance shrieked.

Birds flew away above their heads, squawking in indignation.

Shiro's eyebrows rose. 

Lance closed his eyes for a moment and drew a breath, slow and careful, though his chest still hitched halfway through. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Shiro again. His eyes looked clear and coherent, for the moment, though Shiro couldn't quite believe it. The memory of Lance last night, fevered and coughing and mumbling in his sleep, was too strong.

"Shiro," Lance said. Oh, and that was his reasonable voice. Shiro rarely heard that one, so this was going to be interesting. Shiro settled in and nodded seriously for Lance to go on.

Lance took another breath. "I know I'm sick. I know I'm not really...reliable. Right now."

Shiro opened his mouth to protest, but Lance waved a hand. "Not what I meant. Don't...console me. Just... I know you're scared to leave me alone, even by...taking a nap. But this is our chance, man."

He looked around, over the field, and Shiro didn't miss the uptilt of his chin, the brightness of his eyes as he peered to the forest beyond. He still had to take breaths in the middle of his sentences, but it seemed much more controlled than it had been last night. "This is it. I've been sick before, though not this bad. I know...morning is when I'm likely to feel...as good as possible. I just got as much sleep...as I'm going to get, thanks to you...taking care of me. In a few hours I'm gonna be...I'm gonna be dragging again. I know that. But right now, I'm awake. I'm alert. I can see just fine."

He looked back to Shiro. "And thanks to Pidge, we don't have to...worry about Galra ships. Just foot patrols. I can watch the field...and the forest. I can see them coming. Just...give me my bayard." 

He looked around at the gear, which he hadn't been paying much attention to when Shiro had brought it over. At the time, he'd still been shielding himself from the light and trying to doze, still trying to "sleep in." He'd now given up on that.

Shiro smiled and found the bayard, thankful that it had been materialized and clipped to Lance's hip at the time of the crash, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to summon it with the broken armor. He placed it in Lance's hands and watched as Lance made his weapon appear, long and deadly and heavy in his hands.

Despite his weakness, Lance lifted the weapon fairly easily and cradled it to his chest like a favored pet. "See? I'm fine. And I know...it's temporary. But that just means we gotta...take advantage of it now. So...you go to sleep. I'll take watch. Just for a few hours, Shiro. Please."

Well. This was strangely persuasive. Shiro opened his mouth, but he didn't have an immediate argument. He closed his mouth again, frowning.

Lance grinned at him, broad and bright and almost silly. He could sense that victory was at hand. "Besides, how would you even...shoot them at long range...when you don't have a gun? _I_ have a gun, and you don't." His tone implied that this was obviously the winning argument, and no further discussion was necessary.

Shiro narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure he did have a plan for dealing with the foot patrols when he saw them, but he couldn't remember it now. He was too tired. Had it been...sneak up on them from behind and destroy them with his arm? That might have been it.

Lance wiggled his eyebrows and nodded encouragingly, and Shiro had to concede the point. A gun was definitely the superior option in this scenario. He tilted his head slightly, but still couldn't quite give in. There was a hesitation in his chest, holding him back.

Lance sighed and lowered his weapon into his lap. He looked at Shiro full-on, his eyes wide and solemn. "Please, Shiro. You need to sleep. Please trust me."

And that did it. That broke Shiro's last barrier, filling his chest with something warm and light and soft. He smiled, and he felt it spread through his entire being. How could he not?

"Okay, Lance. I'll go to sleep. Just for a few hours, though. If you start to get too tired, or if something happens, wake me up. I'll be right here next to you."

Lance busted into a big grin, the one that Shiro liked the best, so broad and childlike and charmingly sincere. "Booyah, Grandma! I won't let you down."

Shiro couldn't help but smile back, almost as big as Lance. "I know. And don't call me Grandma." 

With that, he felt himself sinking down immediately. He lay down on the branch, curled up on his side, his feet and one arm lodged securely in the smaller branches so there was absolutely no chance of rolling off while he slept. He pillowed his head on his flesh-and-blood arm, and his eyes closed on the sight of Lance settling back where he sat with his gun in his lap, a bright smile still on his face.

"Yes sir, Shiro, sir," Lance said cheerily, not a hint of sarcasm to be heard.

Shiro smiled gently, already fading out. It was okay. He could sleep. Just for a little while...

There were some things Shiro liked about being constantly sleep-deprived. It was why he did it on a regular basis. For one thing, it was great to just be able to instantly pass out the very second he decided to go to sleep. As soon as he stopped fighting it, sleep was there, wrapping him up in thick folds of black. It beat lying awake with nothing to do but think, that was for sure.

The main benefit of this kind of sleep, though, was no dreams. If Shiro ever accidentally got too much sleep, the dreams came back. They usually didn't make sense, but that didn't mean they were easier to deal with. He always had the feeling that things he saw his dreams were just the smallest corner of an enormous reality. Big, awful things were hidden in the depths, things he couldn't see yet, and an enormous feeling of horror welled up in him with the realization. 

What he did perceive in the dreams was bad enough. How much worse were the things he couldn't see? Magnitudes, he was sure. So much worse that they would break his mind the instant they were exposed. Better to just...not know. To not see. To never see at all, even the tiniest hint.

One of the drawbacks of this sleep, though, was the way time seemed to just...skip. One moment he was awake in the early morning, then he laid down and closed his eyes, and when he opened his eyes again, it was much later in the day. Shiro was still for a long moment, staring blankly ahead as he tried to orient himself. The leaves shifted before eyes, gold and shining in a light breeze. Sun filtered through the branches above him, warming his body enough to border on discomfort. He shifted his head and felt sweat where his cheek lay against his arm.

What had woken him? Shiro blinked, and everything rushed back. Where was Lance?

He sat up in a rush, his heart leaping into his throat, then swayed as dizziness assaulted him. Shiro had been already pushing himself up to a crouch, but now he had to lower his head and press his hand against the smooth bark for a moment as he steadied himself. Where... Where?

There it came again. The sound that had woken him. It was Lance's gun firing.

Shiro raised his head, his eyes so wide that they hurt. He turned his body on the balls of his feet, one hand reaching out to grab a handy branch to anchor himself where he crouched, and... There he was. 

Lance was stretched along the branch, farther down from their initial nesting spot, lying on his stomach with his head up and his arms holding his gun steady as he sighted along the barrel. It was a classic sniper position, and for a moment Shiro could only stare at him, his mouth dropping open. Despite Lance's disheveled appearance, his sweat-stained clothes and tousled hair, he looked almost...professional.

"Lance..."

Lance didn't look up, didn't even spare a glance for his leader. He lay there, still and quiet, sighting down his barrel. "Shh."

The sound was so quiet. Barely even a breath of air. But Shiro heard him, and he ducked further down against the branch, instinctively wary. He didn't dare to move and hardly dared to breathe, afraid of interrupting the delicate balance Lance was maintaining. Lance's hands were steady on the gun, and his body was perfectly still. Not even his breath made a noise. Was he holding it?

After another long, aching moment in which Shiro could only listen to the breeze and the birdsong above them, it suddenly ended. Lance relaxed, slumping down on the branch with a gusty sigh. He sucked in a breath, then another one, shaking and rattling his entire frame.

"Lance..." Shiro dared to move, creeping up beside him on the branch. He laid his hand on Lance's back and felt it jerking up and down, one breath, two, another, harsh and wheezing. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine. It's fine." Lance rolled over on his side, away from Shiro's touch, and grinned up at him. His smile was a little shaky, but it was real. His body was limp where he lay, though, entirely worn out. Only the hand still holding his gun was firm. "Two robots, two shots."

Shiro eyes widened. He turned back down the branch, toward the field, looking in the direction Lance had been aiming. He flopped down on his stomach next to Lance, exactly where Lance had been lying a moment ago, and found the opening in the leaves Lance had been using to snipe through.

It was hard to see from this far away, but... Yes. The glint of metal. It was all the way on the other side of the field of giant leaves, only yards away from the jungle. One of the robots had ruined some of the plants when it fell, otherwise Shiro wouldn't have been able to see them at all. They would have disappeared under the leaves like wreckage under the surface of a sea, broken and lost and vanished beyond the finding.

Shiro looked back to Lance, his eyes wide with wonder. "Two robots, two shots."

Lance nodded, a crooked grin turning up the corner of his mouth. "I was just watching to...make sure there...wasn't another one."

"You destroyed a Galra patrol. With two shots."

Lance nodded. He just nodded, this kid, this miraculous kid, didn't crow, didn't triumph, didn't lord his victory over the world. "I'm a good shot."

Such simple words. "I'll say you are." Shiro turned back to stare at the fallen robots again. "How are you so good at this?"

"Step-dad's...ex-military. Army sharpshooter. Been...going to the range...since I was eight."

So...a lot of practice. Sure. But that was talent, too. Sheer, raw talent that Shiro could only marvel at. And Lance had done that while sick with pneumonia and a high fever. While barely able even to breathe. Somehow, someway, with all the disadvantages stacked against him, he had held his hands steady and sighted down his weapon and sniped their enemies from...

How far away? Shiro couldn't guess. The scale of everything on this planet kept throwing him off. When this was over, he was going to ask Coran to come down here with surveyor's equipment and figure out exactly how far Lance could shoot. Because... Wow. He'd seen Lance shoot in training, of course, but they'd never pushed his limits, never even done much target practice, since most of their training was based on hand-to-hand. He never would have guessed...

Shiro turned back to Lance and reached out to pat his cheek. It was warm under his hand, still shaking as Lance fought for breath after the strain he'd put his body under, but Lance smiled at the contact even so. "You're amazing, kiddo. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Lance's smile broadened. "I keep...telling you guys..."

"Yeah, you do." Shiro took one more look back to the fallen robots, then got up on his heels on the branch and reached a hand down for Lance. "C'mon, big guy. Let's get you back to the lookout point. You did your job. You kept your watch. You can rest now."

Lance lifted his hand and let Shiro grab it, holding him strong and steady. His bayard winked out of existence as he relaxed, letting Shiro take over. Shiro levered Lance up to a sitting position, then helped him back to their nest in the branches. Once there, Lance fell backward into his usual reclining position against the branches, still fighting for air.

"Did you...sleep good?"

Shiro smiled at him, slow and wide. "Yeah, I did, buddy. I slept great. I feel fantastic. So I can take up watch now, okay? You did it. You gave me the time I needed."

"Okay. Good." Slowly, breath by breath, Lance's panting and heaving calmed. He slumped against the branches, and his eyes drifted to half-mast. "That's good. I was...getting worried about you."

Shiro laughed softly. "I know. Thank you." He ruffled his hand through Lance's hair, pressing his fingers into Lance's scalp when the kid closed his eyes in contentment. "You can sleep now. I'll be right here."

"Okay. Wake me up if more come so I can shoot them." And he was out, just like that. Shiro knelt there for a long moment, just watching his face. 

When he couldn't delay any longer, he turned away and looked back to the field again. That was one Galra patrol down. There would be others, he was sure. How would he deal with them when they came?

Shiro's metal hand clenched into a fist. He would figure out a way.


	10. Chapter 10

Shiro didn't want to wake Lance. The kid was sleeping soundly, at last, and even his breathing didn't sound too bad right at the moment. Sleep was definitely the best thing for him right now, and it was all Shiro was really able to give him. 

But after lying on the branch for a full five minutes, watching the new Galra patrol slowly draw nearer through the forest and into the field, Shiro admitted the truth. He was not going to be able to fly down and sneak up on them from behind. They would see him coming no matter how carefully he masked his approach. 

And he didn't want to wait until they reached the tree where he could fall on them from above. The farther away they fell from Lance and Shiro's hiding spot, the better. As it was, Shiro already knew that when the patrols failed to report back on schedule, the Galra would realize that he and Lance were in this direction. Eventually, they were going to come here in force. Better to make it as difficult for them as possible.

It was another moment that Shiro really, really wished the black bayard hadn't been lost. Would he be able to form a long-range weapon with it, if he had it? He didn't know. He'd never been given the opportunity to find out. 

Ah, but even if he could do that, Shiro knew he wouldn't be as good a shot as Lance. He had done fine in range exercises back at Galaxy Garrison, but he'd never been anywhere near the top. Lance...Lance probably could have gone to the Olympics, if his life had taken a different path. And no, Shiro didn't think he was overstating that at all.

Besides, if he didn't wake him up, Lance would be upset. He had specifically requested that Shiro wake him when the patrols came so he could shoot them. Shiro knew that his unwillingness to let Lance take watch over the last two nights had hurt Lance's pride, even though Shiro had only meant it for good. Maybe he could make up for that now.

With a resigned sigh, Shiro got up into a crouch and crept back to the lookout point where Lance was sleeping. He moved up beside him and laid a hand carefully on his head. "Lance. Can you wake up for me, kiddo?"

Lance's forehead wrinkled, and he tossed his head restlessly from side to side as a low moan rose from his lips. Shiro pressed him a little harder. "Lance. C'mon, buddy. I need you to wake up."

Lance went still. Slowly, his eyes opened, vague and unfocused at first. Then his gaze found Shiro, and he squinted at him, forehead still wrinkled, a frowning drawing out his face. "Shiro?"

"Yeah." Shiro stroked his hair back. "There's a patrol. Think you can do that trick again? You know, two robots, two shots?"

Lance blinked, then smiled, slow and wide and pleased. "'Snot a trick. Pure skill."

Shiro laughed gently. "I know. C'mon. Show me again."

"You got it, chief."

Despite the eagerness in his voice, though, it wasn't quite that easy. Lance started to sit up right away, muscles straining, then abruptly fell back against the branches, gasping, his face draining of color. Shiro reached for him, alarmed, but Lance lifted a shaky hand and waved him off. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Sorry...moved too fast. Forgot my lungs are...being jerks to me right now."

Shiro frowned, but he leaned back and let Lance handle himself. This time Lance moved more slowly, and he did manage it on his own. He got up on his hands and knees, then looked around for his bayard. 

Shiro had it ready and handed it to him. "If it's going to be too much for you, let them come. We can wait till they get over here to the giant trees and I can get the drop on them."

Lance shook his head. "Nope. Bad plan. Better to drop them in the field of leaves."

This was tactically true, and it was why Shiro had woken Lance up, but it still made him frown harder. Lance crawled down the branch, his face set, eyes focused ahead, and Shiro could only follow. In the same sniper position he'd used before, Lance got down on his stomach, his weapon forming as he moved. And there he was, sighting down the barrel, this serious and professional version of Lance that Shiro had never imagined meeting.

Shiro felt privileged, in a way, that this time he got to watch the process from the beginning. It truly was a kind of transformation, watching Lance move from the sometimes goofy, sometimes awkward kid he usually was into this intent marksman, completely focused on his target to the exclusion of all else. But...there seemed to be a hiccup in the works, this time.

There was a tremble in Lance's fingers. Not bad, not pronounced, but there. Shiro watched him carefully, and he saw the way Lance lifted his hand and stared at it with narrowed eyes, as if commanding it to be still. After a little bit, the trembling seemed to calm down, and Lance set his hands on his gun. One hand was by the trigger, finger extended but not in position yet. Shiro knew that Lance would not place his finger on the trigger until he knew he had the shot.

Then Lance lay there, sighting into the field. His breathing was deep and slow. He was forcing his body not to hitch and shake. Shiro turned to watch the field with him. The robots were getting closer, step by plodding step, and Shiro's heart moved up into his throat. 

The patrol had come out of the forest only a few yards away from where the previous robots lay in the dirt, exposed to the sky. If this new patrol had spotted the last one, they would have known that trouble was nearby. They would have been on the alert, guns at the ready, looking around for Shiro and Lance with much more purpose than they were now. As it was, only luck had prevented that. The patrol just continued to move, step by step, closer and closer. 

They were now past the original patrol and still moving. Shiro held his breath. Shouldn't Lance have dropped them by now?

He looked back to Lance, heart beating faster. Lance...

Lance was struggling. His breathing was unsteady, his body wavering. Just a little, but it was. He was clearly trying to make it stop, trying to control his breath the way he had before, but it... It wasn't working.

Shiro bit his lip. He should stop this. He should tell Lance to let them come, let him take care of it. 

But Lance was trying...he was trying so hard. Shiro couldn't make the words come. He almost felt that it would be cruel to interrupt, to take back the request he had made. Lance wanted to do this, and Shiro wanted him to succeed. His fists were clenched, nails biting into his flesh-and-blood palm.

Then, the shot. Lance's finger slipped into the trigger and pulled, slow and easy. Shiro's gaze flipped back to the field, and he watched one robot fall. It disappeared into the leaves as if it had never existed.

The other robot went into a defensive stance, gun raised and ready as its head swiveled around. But they were too far away, too well hidden. Shiro could see a light glowing on the antenna on the back of the robot's head, but he knew no information was getting out. Nothing was getting back to the Galra command. Pidge was intercepting it before it could. She was protecting them, too.

Then Shiro heard Lance's breathing again, and oh, that was bad. He looked back to him, found his back heaving as he fought, his hands shaking on the gun. He couldn't be silent any longer.

"Lance..."

"Don't...say anything."

Shiro snapped his mouth shut. Lance's voice was breathless but sincere, still focused, still serious. His gaze was fixed on the field, even as sweat poured down his face and temples.

He drew a breath, long, wheezing in his tight throat and crowded lungs. Shiro could hear the phlegm, the moist obstruction, and again, that horrible little honk at the end of it. This was bad. It was so bad. But Lance paid no attention to him. He seemed barely aware of his body at all, every ounce of concentration poured into the task set for him.

Then that awful noise...stopped. Lance was holding his breath again. His face reddened, but his hands steadied. His finger slid into the trigger.

The sound of the shot, clean and loud. Shiro watched the second robot fall.

"Okay," he said instantly. "Okay, Lance, that's it, you can let go. There's no third one. I watched. I'm sure of it. Let go."

Lance did. He fell over on his side just like he had the first time, and his weapon vanished from existence. He was shaking all over, and his breathing was terrible. His eyes closed, and he tipped his head back against the branch and lay there limply, panting and heaving, heaving and panting.

Shiro reached out for him, pulled him up, propped him against his body the way he had in the night. Lance leaned back against his chest, shuddering with every breath. He did not resist Shiro's manhandling, but he didn't help, either. He simply had no energy to do anything, anything at all.

"C'mon, kiddo..." Shiro held Lance with one arm around his waist and reached up his other hand to wrap it around his forehead again, checking his temperature. He was not surprised to find that the fever was higher now, possibly higher than it had ever been. Sometimes he couldn't tell if there was a difference at all, but this time he could. Absolutely and with certainty.

This was bad. Shiro almost chuckled at his own thoughts, because that simple phrase was such a ridiculous understatement. This could be called bad the way that a war could be called troublesome.

"C'mon, buddy. Breathe. Just breathe."

Lance did. He closed his eyes, but Shiro knew he wasn't sleeping. The air rasped in his throat and honked deep in lungs, vibrating his bruised body and cracked ribs, which just made him shake harder, for he had no voice with which to whimper or cry out and no strength to wince or cringe. For what seemed like a long time, they sat there, breathing. Shiro fought to keep his own breaths calm and steady, hoping to provide a soothing rhythm against Lance's back, but it was hard to hold his own pace when Lance was struggling so mightily in his arms.

"Good job, soldier," Shiro murmured. "You did such a good job. You can relax now. You can rest. Everything's fine."

Lance's eyelids fluttered, then closed again. His breath seemed the slightest bit calmer.

Shiro closed his eyes, too, and tipped his head so his cheek rested on Lance's temple. "Everything's fine. Everything's okay. Just rest now. You can rest. C'mon, buddy. C'mon, kiddo. Just relax. Just breathe. Everything is going to be okay."

"Hurts..." It was the first thing Lance had been able to say for minutes on end, and it was barely audible.

"I know, buddy. I know it hurts. Just try to relax. Keep breathing. Everything is fine."

Lance's body was on fire. Shiro didn't know how much he even understood, at this point. He had to be so delirious, so confused. And he had still made that shot. Two of them. Because Shiro had asked him to, and he had wanted to do it.

"You're okay. You're gonna be okay." Shiro rocked them gently, back and forth, in the rhythm of the breeze. "You're okay. You're okay."

So slowly that Shiro might not have realized if he hadn't been paying excruciatingly close attention, Lance's breathing calmed. Still, he didn't open his eyes. Didn't move. He lay there against Shiro, allowing himself to be held. He was pure dead weight, a limp bundle of long limbs and lanky body, quiescent and still.

"I want to go home," Lance whispered. There was almost no emotion in his voice, as if he had no energy for that, either. It was a plain statement of fact, one that he felt compelled to share.

"I know, buddy." Shiro brushed the hair back from his forehead and rocked him in his arms. "I know."

"I miss my parents."

"I know you do."

"I miss my brothers and sisters."

"I know." Shiro's voice had fallen to a whisper, too. 

"My uncles. My aunts. My cousins."

"I know."

"I miss the ocean. I miss the rain."

"I know. I know."

Lance drew a deep breath, honking deep in his chest. Shiro tried to hold him still, but Lance still wasn't fighting against his grip. He just lay there, limp and exhausted, sharing with Shiro everything that he could.

"I miss Hunk and Pidge."

A lump rose in Shiro's throat. "I know. You'll see them again soon."

"I miss Allura and Coran."

"They're waiting for you."

"I even miss Keith."

Shiro smiled, small and twisted. He felt like his heart was being dragged out of his chest through his lungs, it was so difficult to breathe. "I'll keep your secret."

Lance huffed a silent laugh, barely moving. "But I'm glad you're here with me."

Shiro couldn't speak. He had no breath in his body, no voice in his lungs. He wanted this to be over so badly that he could think of nothing else. He wanted to take Lance home to the castle where he would be safe. He wanted Hunk and Pidge and Keith to descend from the sky in their lions and finally, finally rescue them from this hellhole.

Shiro swallowed. "I'm glad you're with me, too," he murmured. "You've done such a good job, Lance. Such a good job."

Lance smiled, a motion Shiro felt more than saw. Then he turned his head toward Shiro's face and leaned forward just a little. Just enough to hide his eyes against Shiro's neck. And he was quiet. Maybe he slept. Maybe he simply had nothing else he wanted to say or do.

Shiro held him close, felt the fever in his body, listened to the breath rasping in his lungs. He rocked him gently in his arms, and he stared over the field of giant leaves. He waited for whatever would come, rescue from the lions or capture from the Galra patrols. One of them would come, sooner or later.

All he could do now was wait.


	11. Chapter 11

"It's based on the timing," Keith said. His voice was so close that he could have been sitting right there, next to Shiro on the branch. Shiro wished that he was.

It was night, now. Moonlight painted the leaves once again, but it seemed dimmer than the night before. Shiro didn't know if it was truly so, or if it was merely the fear of the situation that was oppressing him. Even sitting in the cool air, under the starlight, he felt driven, backed into a corner, completely and utterly trapped. The helmet felt heavy on his head, and he couldn't bear to put on anything else from his armor. He needed this to talk to his allies, his friends, so he wore it, but every second it was on him he itched to take it off. Maybe this was how it had been for Lance last night when he had felt like his armor was suffocating him.

Lance rested against his chest and neck, heavy and still. His breathing was shallow and rapid. He wasn't sweating anymore, and his forehead burned where it pressed Shiro's skin. He hadn't spoken for hours. Shiro didn't know if he was sleeping or if he had just sunk into a stupor, unable to respond. Either way, they were running out of time.

It was almost gone.

And so Keith's comment made him smile, small and bitter. "Timing," Shiro murmured. "Yes, it's all based on the timing."

"We've got it figured out," Keith said. "The new weapon. We know where it is. Almost. It's on a rotating deck on the main capital ship, that's why we had trouble figuring it out. So when Hunk and Pidge and I go in, we'll have to pick just the right moment. The weapon also has a cool-down period, so if we can lure it out, then make it miss... We'll have to do it a couple of times to get close enough to destroy it. Then we'll take out the rest of the fleet. We've been practicing our coordination on the training deck."

"You've been working hard," Shiro said. "All three of you. I'm really grateful."

"Yeah." Keith stated it baldly. He wasn't proud, wasn't pleased by the compliment. He just wanted this to be over. "The training is... Hunk and Pidge aren't...natural fighters. But we're making it work. They want you guys to come home. We all do."

"I know."

"We're close, Shiro. One more run through on the training deck, and then we're coming, even if it's not perfect. We...we can't wait any longer."

No. No, they couldn't. Shiro tugged Lance a little closer to him with the arm wrapped around his waist. "We'll be waiting."

Keith blew out a gusty sigh and switched subjects. "Are you finding stuff to eat down there? Are you getting enough sleep?"

He sounded exasperated, as usual when he probed Shiro to find out if it he was taking care of himself. It made Shiro smile. "I'm fine, I..." His voice lowered, and he shifted Lance's dead weight against his side again. "Lance hasn't been able to eat for the last couple of days. I finished off his ration bars in his stead. Didn't have to do any foraging, thank goodness." He hated this planet, hated the rotting, putrid smell, hated the stickiness of the air, hated the water even when it tasted good after being purified. He didn't want to be forced to eat anything from this awful place.

"And did you get any sleep?" Keith's voice was sharp.

"A little," Shiro said. "Enough. Lance kept watch for me, back when..." He had to stop and swallow. "When he could."

"Okay." Keith was only slightly mollified.

"Keith," Shiro said quietly, soothingly. "I miss you too."

Keith was silent for a moment. Then, "Okay," softer and calmer. As calm as Keith could get under these circumstances, Shiro was sure. Keith blew out another sigh. "It's...stupid, but I'm even kind of missing that idiot. Just... I dunno, even his stupid comments about my hair..."

But Shiro had stopped listening. Something was happening to Lance.

"Lance?" His voice was high and sharp. Shiro heard it as if belonged to someone else, far away and yet yelling in his ear.

Lance didn't respond. He was...he was convulsing. He body jerked against Shiro, again and again, and his eyes were staring into the distance, glassy, half-open. It was a seizure. He was having a seizure.

Shiro had never seen anyone have a seizure before. He didn't know to do. All of his first aid training seemed to have vanished from his head. Should he hold him still so he wouldn't hurt himself? Shiro's arms hovered in the air. He heard his own panicked breathing echoing in the helmet.

Lance was choking on nothing, and then he stopped breathing altogether. "Lance!"

"...Shiro..." Keith's voice, distant, muffled, almost impossible to hear through the ringing alarms that were sounding in Shiro's head. "...Shiro, what's happening?"

Shiro's voice bunched up in his throat as he choked, too. "I can't...I don't..."

"Shiro, what's happening to Lance?" Keith's voice was urgent now, demanding.

Shiro sucked in air as Lance continued to convulse against him. "He's...seizing. He's having a seizure. He's not breathing, Keith, he's not... I don't..."

Keith caught his breath. "I'm...gonna get Coran."

Yeah. Yeah, that was probably the best idea. Shiro listened to Keith's foosteps clattering away. Lance burned and shook. Shiro's breath rasped in his ears.

More footsteps, rushing over the floor. Coran's voice, elevated but somehow still calm, still in command of situation. "Shiro, Lance is seizing?"

"I...yeah. Yeah. I don't... I don't know what to do, Coran." Shiro was struggling for air, too. But at least he could breathe, at least...

"The most important thing is to remain calm," Coran said. "You need to pull yourself together for Lance. Can you do that? Slow your breathing."

"Okay." Shiro tried. He pulled in one breath, then another. "But Lance isn't breathing, Coran, he..."

"He'll start breathing again on his own. It will be all right."

"How do you know? I...I didn't know he had epilepsy, I didn't... Where are we gonna find drugs in space?"

Coran hummed through his mustache. "Well, I don't know what apopsily is, but it's not unheard of for mammalian species to seize when their bodies overheat. It's the fever, Shiro. Everything will be all right. Can you calm down now?"

"Yeah." Another breath. Another. "What should I do?"

"Are you somewhere safe? Somewhere flat? If so, lay him on his side. It will make it easier for him to breathe. Knees bent, head elevated if you can. Don't try to restrict his movements in any way."

"O...okay." Shiro gently lowered Lance to the big branch and arranged him as instructed. As he did it, bits of his first aid training filtered back into his mind. "Re...recovery position?"

"Is that what Earthlings call it?" Coran sounded pleased, as if he had discovered something cute. "It's a good name, I like it."

"Thanks." Shiro didn't know why he was accepting Coran's praise for something he had had no hand in doing, but his brain was still a little fuzzy with shock and reaction. Or a lot fuzzy. He didn't have anything to prop Lance's head on, so he sat down next him and used his knee as a pillow. "Okay, I think...I think the shaking is getting slower."

"That's good," Coran said encouragingly. "Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"I...yeah." Shiro ran his fingers through Lance's hair, over and over again, combing through the tangles. He felt the heat radiating from him, felt the rhythmic convulsions as they fell further and further apart. "This is really scary, Coran."

"I know. But it's just the fever. We need to reduce it as soon as possible."

"Right." That made sense. That sounded like something Shiro might be able to do.

"Is there a source of water nearby? Somewhere you can bathe his body?"

"There's... Yeah, there's a stream. About ten minutes away. Six hundred ticks."

"When the seizure has completely stopped, take him there. He'll be confused and disoriented, if he's awake at all, so you'll need to support him."

Shiro huffed a laugh. Of course they couldn't know that he'd been holding Lance against his side for the greater part of the last twenty-four hours. "Won't be a problem."

Lance convulsed one more time under Shiro's hand, then suddenly made an awful choking sound and started breathing again. It was louder than ever, with a worrying sort of sucking, wheezing sound underneath it, and still too shallow and fast. "Lance? You in there, buddy?" Shiro watched him worriedly for a moment, but Lance continued to stare into the distance. He did not respond to Shiro's touch or voice.

"He...I think it's done, Coran. I'm gonna take him to the stream now."

"Glad to hear it. Don't forget your gear, whatever you need to take with you. If all goes well, we'll be meeting you there."

Shiro carefully shifted Lance's head off his knee to the branch and rose to a half-crouch to gather their things. He needed to at least put on the jetpack so he could fly them down to the forest floor. He didn't know how well it would handle the weight of two humans at once, but it would have to manage. They couldn't risk any further delays.

Still halfway to rising, though, Shiro froze, staring across the field of giant leaves. There were lights in the forest beyond. At this distance they were small, but they were that familiar, too familiar deep purple, and...and there were a lot of them. Dozens? Hundreds?

The moment he'd been expecting was here. The Galra had realized that the missing patrols sent to this quadrant signified that Lance and Shiro were here. They were coming in force to hunt them down.

Shiro fell back to his knees by Lance's head, his breath beginning to speed up. They shouldn't leave the tree. They needed to hide. No doubt the Galra had brought handheld scanners with them, but maybe they wouldn't think to look up, maybe...

He looked down at Lance. His face was utterly pale in the moonlight, almost ghostly. And...Shiro couldn't be sure in the lighting and the dimness, but he thought that Lance's lips might be too dark. He wasn't getting enough oxygen.

Shiro laid a hand on Lance's forehead, brushing his hair back. His skin was burning up. And the fact that he wasn't sweating...Shiro knew it was a bad sign. He needed to cool him down right away. Even if the others were on the way, even if they defeated the Galra fleet in the next thirty minutes and descended on this planet and ended it all, it wouldn't mean anything if Lance's illness had done permanent damage to his body. Shiro had a bad feeling that a cryo pod couldn't heal everything, and he didn't want to test it. At all.

Shiro looked out at the lights in the forest. They had multiplied while he wasn't looking. Definitely hundreds. At least it felt like it. He could acknowledge, though, that he perhaps was not thinking at his clearest right now.

Shiro firmed his jaw. No. Don't focus on it. He had a task. The others were above them, fighting in the sky. Even as he knelt here, hesitating, he could hear Coran's voice over the headset coordinating the coming attack. They had skipped their last run-through on the training deck and were going _now._

Shiro couldn't wait, either. He took off the helmet and clipped it to his armor belt in the pile beside him. It would be too much of a distraction to listen to their battle while he had his own to fight. He brushed Lance's hair back one more time, then leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on his temple. Lance's skin was so hot and dry that it seemed to burn his lips, but Shiro still pressed them there for a moment. "Lance," he whispered. "We're going now. It's ending."

Lance blinked and shifted his head slightly where he lay. Maybe he was starting to come back to himself. Shiro patted his shoulder, then got up and started putting on his armor. All of it. He gathered up Lance's armor and bayard in one of the groundsheets and tied it over his shoulder again. He attached the almost empty waterbag to his belt. Then he went back to Lance and picked him up with one arm under his knees and one around his upper back.

Lance slid limply back against him, long legs hanging over Shiro's arm. One arm was folded up on his abdomen, and the other dangled outside of Shiro's grip. Shiro hefted him in his arms and managed to get Lance's head up on his shoulder. Lance responded then, just enough to push his face forward and rest his forehead against Shiro's neck again. His eyes fluttered shut as he moved. His breath sounded like a broken bellows.

Shiro squared his shoulders and walked back to where the branch he stood on grew from the gigantic trunk. He looked out at the field again for a moment, watching the myriad purple lights as they approached. He heard the tramp of robotic footsteps, heard the giant-leafed plants being crushed under their heavy tread. They were coming. They were all coming.

He stepped off the branch. The jetpack slowed his descent to the forest floor. There was no way the Galra hadn't seen the flare of light. They knew where he was now.

Shiro walked to the water as quickly as he could. He didn't dare go very fast for fear of jostling Lance's broken ribs and making everything worse. His own breath sounded in his ears, loud and fast. And there was the stream, glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the leaves above, silvery and crystalline. The steady flowing almost hid the sounds of the Galra coming behind.

Shiro found a place where the stream widened and deepened, spreading out over the forest floor. Then he walked into it, his boots squishing into mud and clattering over rocks. He found a place where the water was knee-deep and carefully lowered both himself and Lance down into it.

He shifted Lance to lay almost submerged, holding his head above water in the crook of his arm. Lance blinked and shivered, then closed his eyes again. His breath was ragged and rabbit-fast. Shiro knew that the water was cooler than the surrounding air, but not cold. It was a stream in a jungle, after all. It shouldn't be too much of a shock to Lance's system, but it would disperse the heat of his body and help fight his fever. At least for a little while.

Just a little while, Shiro prayed. Half an hour. Let that be all they needed.

He knelt there with Lance in his arms, and he waited for whatever would come.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention earlier, but several plot beats in this chapter and the last were inspired by some fun conversations with riallasheng on tumblr. ::blows an aro/ace kiss::

When they came for him, Shiro had his hands raised. The robots circled around, guns leveled, lights glowing. Shiro held his right arm up at shoulder height, hand empty, fingers splayed. His other arm was still supporting Lance's head, but he pushed his open hand above water to show that he posed no threat. His entire body was wracked with tension as he half-hunched over Lance, his face pulled into a grimace. He was heaving for breath, his back pulsing up and down. The terror was like a living thing, eating out his insides and rattling his brain, but he had to endure. Just for a little while, he told himself. Just for a little while.

The ranks of the robots parted, and a Galra commander stepped into view. His fur was brushed neatly, and his eyes were hard and bright, his expression both stern and satisfied. Shiro switched his gaze to him as soon as he appeared and locked eyes with him, watching his approach. He would not show fear. He would not show fear.

"So." The Galra's deep voice rumbled in his chest. He stopped on the bank of the stream, his hands folded behind his back, and looked down at Shiro and Lance the way that a person looked down on an annoying bug that they had finally cornered and were about to crush underfoot. "We've found you after all. Why did you bother to run, if you weren't going to make it more difficult?"

Shiro grit his teeth. "Who are you?" If he was going to be forced to surrender to this utter scum, he wanted to at least remember his name.

"I am Ragnak, the second-in-command of this sector. I thought it might be fun to join the drones when they finally ran you to ground, Voltron trash. I'm pleased to find that the exercise did provide me at least a modicum of amusement. Now that your every effort has proven utterly useless, will you at least have the grace to come quietly?"

Shiro looked around at the robots, his breath hissing through his teeth, then back to Ragnak. "I won't fight you," he said, "though I could. I could destroy at least a dozen of your drones before you put me down, and I could make a play for your throat. I might even make it. But I won't try, as long as you grant me one concession."

Ragnak tilted his head, a condescending smile flitting over his lips. "What might that be?"

"Let me carry my friend." Shiro curled his left arm closer to his body, pulling Lance's head in to rest against him. "He's injured and very, very sick. He doesn't understand what's happening right now. Let me take care of him. Just...don't restrain my hands, and allow me to carry him. That's all I ask."

Ragnak's lip twisted in disgust. "You'd trade your freedom for such a token?"

Shiro's mouth twitched. "I trade my right to fight for the permission to care for my friend."

"You trash." Ragnak snorted. "And in any case, what worth is your vow that you won't fight? What worth is the word of a slave?"

Shiro clenched his teeth, blinking rapidly. A flood of images and feelings rose within him at the sound of that word, said in that tone, by a creature who looked like that. _Slave._

No, he had to fight it. He had to fight it. Shiro clutched Lance closer to him and sucked in a breath. "It's worth more than yours."

Fortunately, Ragnak found this amusing. He laughed, an almost furry, muffled sound. His head bent back on his neck, eyes closing for a moment. Then he looked back to Shiro, still smiling wide and smug, eyes narrowed in contentment like the cat that got the cream. "Very well. You will be permitted to carry your precious 'friend,' if it means so much to you. I will not order you to be restrained. But I know well that the current pilot of the black lion is never truly unarmed. Four drones will escort you at all times with their fingers on the triggers of their weapons. If you make a single false move, you will regret it."

Shiro swallowed. "I thought you wanted us alive."

"Alive does not mean free of pain. We can do many things without killing you."

Shiro knew that was true. He nodded once, briskly, to accept the bargain. Then he bent over to look at Lance's face. His voice lowered to a murmur. "Hey, Lance. Hey, kiddo. Can you open your eyes?"

For a second, it seemed like Lance wouldn't be able to respond. But then, with an effort, his eyes slid open. They were still glassy and distant, but Shiro could tell that he was trying to focus on his face. Shiro blew out a sigh in relief. The water had done some good. "We're gonna move, now, okay? I'm gonna carry you. Can you put your arms around my neck?"

Lance blinked and managed a bare nod, little more than a shiver. Shiro shifted him in his arms, pulled him up to rest against his chest. Slowly, sluggishly, but with intent, Lance raised his arms and wrapped them loosely around Shiro's neck. His head rolled into the dip of Shiro's shoulder, eyes hidden once more against the column of his neck, and he breathed in short, hot pants that Shiro felt ghosting over his damp skin, warmer than the jungle breeze.

"Okay, okay. Good job, buddy. I've got you." Shiro set his feet underneath himself and straightened up. Water flowed down his armor and saturated Lance's clothes. Maybe it would cool him a little during the ordeal ahead. Lance's breath hitched at the change in position, then smoothed out again. As smooth as it could get right now, anyway.

Shiro gave him a concerned glance, then looked back to Ragnak. He nodded.

Ragnak still had that look on his face like a person staring at a bug, but there was also some amusement in his expression. Shiro grit his teeth, angry despite himself. Yeah, yeah, it was just so freaking _funny,_ wasn't it, watching the captured Earthling trying to help his wounded companion. Ragnak jerked his head. Four drones splashed down into the creek and surrounded Shiro on all sides, guns leveled at his torso. The one behind him nudged his back with the muzzle, and Shiro jolted forward a step, then went still, seething with fury.

"Still some fight in your eyes, I see," Ragnak said, half-laughing. "The crowds at the arena will be pleased, once we've taken everything else we want from you. Very well then, let's move out."

They marched. Through the forest, back to the field. It felt like an undoing, a rewinding of all the hard-fought progress Shiro and Lance had made over the past three days. 

Walking surrounded by Galra like this, their guns pressed to his back, pressed against the teammate he had fought with all his might to protect and comfort and support... That felt like an undoing, too. Shiro felt his mind slipping to things he had forgotten, and he tried to fight it. The smell of this place, though, the stinking, rotting smell of it, so thick and pungent and deep... It was the cells of the arena after the fight, the dead prisoners, the dead slaves left to rot. Left to rot, or...or dragged away...dragged away for worse ends... The smell...

But here again, Lance was his savior, even though unwitting. His weight in Shiro's arms was heavy, and his face pressed against Shiro's neck was warm. This was the present, this was here and now, this was what Shiro needed to focus on. If he turned his head and twisted downward, he could bury his nose in Lance's hair. The fever-scent did not block out the stink of this rotten planet, but it helped. It helped. The ache in his arms and upper back told him where he was, what he was supposed to be doing.

The field of giant leaves had been all but trampled. Only a few plants were still standing here and there, lilypad-like leaves catching the moonlight. The robots must have spread out and walked shoulder to shoulder to cause such devastation to such a wide swath of land. The drones escorting Shiro halted on the edge of the field at a gesture from Ragnak, and Shiro stood there and stared over the destruction, a strange lump in his throat. 

These leaves had sheltered him and Lance the other day, and the sight of them spread out under the moonlight and sunlight, calm and still and rich, dark green, had been soothing. It hurt to see them destroyed in such a cavalier way. A small hurt, against everything else he was feeling right now, but still a hurt.

Ragnak looked over the trampled field, too, but he only gave a disdainful sniff. "I suppose I must give you some credit for getting this far away, after all. It might even take us a thousand ticks to get back to the lions."

Shiro stared at him, blinking. Only fifteen minutes? That was all the distance he and Lance had put behind them?

A mechanical whirring interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see a transport vehicle pulling up alongside Ragnak, driven by another flesh-and-blood Galra. It was large and open, not unlike a jeep, but with wide, heavy tank treads. Ragnak waved his arm, and the drones pushed Shiro toward it. "You should be grateful for the ride," Ragnak told him with a sneer. "I doubt you'll be able to go much farther with that useless burden weighing you down."

Shiro frowned and clutched Lance a little closer to him. Still, he got into the vehicle willingly enough. They made him sit on the floor, drones in the seats all around, guns still trained on him. He let it fade away and chose to focus on the kid in his arms. Lance remained limp and silent and unmoving, barely reacting to anything.

"Lance?" he whispered. "You in there?"

Lance's head shifted against his neck, just a little. It almost counted as a nod. Shiro would take it.

"Everything's going to be okay, kiddo. We're going home." He didn't know how much Lance was aware of, but he probably knew that they were currently captured and surrounded by Galra. But he couldn't possibly know that the others had been planning an attack, that they had been fighting above them even as Shiro had tramped to the stream and dunked them in. 

Fifteen minutes wasn't a lot of time. Shiro had hoped that all of his and Lance's efforts to delay, delay, delay would give the others a little more leeway. By the time they got back to the lake where the lions were, maybe it would already be over. His assurance to Lance was as much hope as it was certainty, but he made his voice as firm as he could. "We're going home."

"Lying to him now?" Ragnak was standing at the side of the open vehicle, grinning down at him. "What foolish creatures you are."

Shiro frowned and ducked his head, choosing not to look into the Galra's eyes. He might see the truth there if he looked hard enough. "My friend is sick and hurting," he said quietly. "I'm doing everything I can for him."

"And you will fail," Ragnak said simply. "Enjoy your last thousand ticks in the fresh air."

The vehicle rocked slightly as Ragnak got into the front, and then they were moving. Three other tank vehicles filled with drones came with them, while the rest would have to march behind. The treads crunched over the trampled plants, crushing them into the ground. A breeze flowed over them. Shiro closed his eyes.

The Galra did not follow the path Shiro and Lance had taken. They made their own. They detoured around the gigantic trees in their way, but always with a distinct sense of disgust, as if they'd much rather chop them down and chose not to only because they were pressed for time. Shiro did his best to soften the shock for Lance whenever they jolted over a root or a rough spot on the ground, but he could tell by the increasing raggedness of his breath and the way his hands tightened on Shiro's shoulders that he wasn't always successful.

"Hang on, kiddo," Shiro murmured. "We're almost there."

Lance's head moved again in something that was almost certainly a nod. He seemed more cognizant now, holding onto Shiro instead of just lying there in his lap. Shiro blew out a breath. He raised his head and looked around, but he didn't recognize their surroundings. The path must have taken them on a circuitous route, and now the Galra were cutting straight through, back to the lake.

Shiro had no way of telling how long the journey actually took. It could have been forever. It could have been a couple of minutes. Inevitably, they reached their destination. 

The vehicle stopped, and Ragnak gave an order. The drones shoved Shiro with their guns. He positioned his arms to bear Lance's weight again and carefully pushed to his feet, trying to jostle him as little as possible, then descended from the vehicle. The lake was still obscurred by a line of trees and foliage, but he could smell the water, could hear the mechanical sounds of a Galra encampment, the hum of a particle barrier. They must have built up a large base here while they were searching.

Shiro's gaze was drawn up, as if by a magnet, to where the black lion was visible above the trees. The lion's particle barrier was activated, and the Galra had surrounded it with a particle barrier of their own, trying to contain it. Even as he watched, the lion seemed to twitch, irritated, chafing for freedom. Shiro knew the feeling.

Lance was starting to breathe harder, one hand fumbling at Shiro's shoulder. Shiro looked back to him in sudden concern. "Lance? What's the matter?" It was the bag of gear tied over Shiro's shoulder that Lance was trying to get at. Was he thirsty? He had to be totally delirious at this point.

Lance's panting intensified, and he tensed against Shiro's arm. "Shh." A breath of sound pushed out of his lips, audible only to Shiro as anything besides random noise. Shiro went still. Lance's fingers clenched in the fabric of the groundsheet and stayed there.

Ragnak and other Galra officer strode ahead, but the drones still surrounded them, four close enough to touch and at least twenty more behind. Shiro angled his body to try to hide what Lance was doing, but there wasn't anywhere to go. And he didn't even know what Lance was trying to accomplish, so he wasn't sure that he was helping at all. 

Then they passed beyond the trees, and Ragnak halted in his tracks. He had been talking to the other Galra, but his voice stopped too, cut off as if chopped with a sword. Then Shiro came up behind and saw why.

Yes, there had been a Galra base here. The Galra had cleared a tract of land and brought down equipment, ships, modular buildings... And it was all destroyed now. Robot parts littered the ground, drone ships lay wrecked everywhere and scattered in the trees, and more of those tank-like vehicles were crushed into the swampy dirt or pushed into the lake.

"What... What!" Ragnak turned back to Shiro, his eyes wide, face enraged. "What is this? What happened here?"

Shiro allowed a smile, grim and tight. "I don't know why you're looking at me. I had nothing to do with this. I promised I wouldn't fight you, remember?"

Ragnak looked back to the field of destruction, breathing harsh and ragged with rage. "No...no, it's not too late... We can fix this." He spun on his heel and stomped back to Shiro, teeth clenched in fury. He shoved the drones out of the way and grabbed Shiro's arm, then started pulling him down to the lake. "Make him bring out the blue lion. Bring it out of the lake! We have to at least take one lion..."

"Why not the black lion?" Shiro asked, his voice utterly calm. "The black lion isn't hiding."

Ragnak snarled. "You know very well that the black lion has been shooting everything that comes near. And you agreed not to fight, but you didn't agree to help. Not that it would have mattered in the end. We would have tortured you until you gave us entry. But now we have no time to waste, and the blue pilot is already weakened. We'll force him to let us in."

They had reached the edge of the lake. Shiro dug in his heels and refused to be dragged any further. Lance had stopped fumbling with the gear and was now still in his arms, panting breathlessly, his entire body stiff with tension. 

"No," Shiro said coldly. "You won't."

Ragnak turned back to him, mouth open in a sharp-toothed growl. His hands were reaching out, claws extended to swipe at Shiro or Lance or both. It was desperation and rage that drove him, nothing more. Shiro took a step back, out of his reach.

His right hand was starting to glow. He hadn't meant it to happen. It was pure reaction to the situation and to Shiro's mentality. He wanted to fight. He wanted to destroy. The urge to _protect protect protect_ was a roaring mantra inside him that overtook everything else, but he had enough presence of mind to keep his promise to the bitter end. He would show Ragnak what the word of a slave was worth.

The drones didn’t know that. The glowing hand was sign enough for them. They started firing.

Shiro dropped. He activated his shield as he fell, and he curled up around Lance, covering him with the shield and his own armored body. He grunted as he took several blasts, but nothing penetrated. Lance lost his breath when he hit the ground, then went still, shaking all over. He couldn't take much more of this. Neither of them could.

Then the roar. The lions. Shiro looked up, squinting through the laser fire. He saw them coming, brilliant in the moonlight. Green and red and yellow. They had destroyed the Galra camp, then flown over the forest, searching for them. And now they were back, just as Shiro had known they would be. He smiled, then gasped as he took another hit to the back.

"No, _no!"_ Ragnak, screaming. "Stop firing! Stop! I'll kill them myself! If we can't have the lions, I'll kill the pilots! Let me have that satisfaction!"

The drones stopped firing. The lions were descending. Shiro looked up, still curled around Lance, as Ragnak rushed toward them. He was holding a gun. Shiro clenched up tighter, moving his shield between Lance and the approaching death.

"No! Enough!" Ragnak reached them. He landed a vicious kick on Shiro's wrist, breaking the shield. It shattered and disappeared. "You die now!" He raised the gun and pointed it at Shiro's forehead. 

At the end, Shiro could only lie there, unable to move. This was it. He couldn't do anything else. The lions in the sky were descending, but they were still too far away.

Ragnak's face twisted in an ugly grin of triumph. "No, your friend dies first."

His aim shifted to Lance, armorless, defenseless, delirious and all but dead. Then Lance rolled over and revealed what he had been hiding between his body and Shiro's. The thing he had been fumbling for in the bag of gear and only managed to get out when all of the commotion had drawn attention away from him. His bayard.

Lance shot Ragnak between the eyes. The Galra fell, too quickly dead even to look surprised. Shiro gasped.

Then the lake exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart! [Shiro surrenders](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/150283696066/glitchikinnsblog-when-they-came-for-him-shiro)


	13. Chapter 13

Water cascaded around them in a blur of sound and motion and wet. Algae spattered on the ground beside Shiro's head, and he instinctively grabbed Lance and dragged him back against his chest again, trying to cover him from whatever was happening. The ground shook and metal joints strained and Shiro had a sense of an immense weight, an immense presence. A mechanical growl split the night, and the stars and moons were blotted out.

Lance gasped for air. "Blue."

Shiro looked up. They were surrounded on all sides. Beside them, blue metal paws. Above them a blue metal chin. The blue lion had burst from the lake and now hunched over them, growling and shaking. They couldn't see anything but her, but Shiro heard more laser blasts outside, more fighting, the drones firing at the other lions as they descended, the Galra officer shouting panicked orders. He heard the black lion roaring and pounding against the particle barrier that imprisoned her with all her weight.

It was over quickly. The confusion of noise and battle outside ceased, and all was still. Water still dripped from Blue's jaw, falling down around them. Lance held his bayard tight in both hands, still shaking all over, and Shiro kept his arms wrapped around him, not sure what else to do. It had all been so sudden that he didn't know if he could believe it.

"Lance..."

Lance shook his head. "I had to," he murmured breathlessly. "I had to. He...he was gonna kill you."

"I know." Shiro buried his hand in Lance's hair, tugging his head in to rest on his shoulder. "I know. You had to. You didn't have a choice. But I'm sorry you had to do that, Lance. I'm sorry you have to bear that burden."

Lance let go of his bayard and put his arms around Shiro, holding as tight as he could. "I wanna go home," he whispered, and Shiro could hear the tears in his voice. "I wanna go home, I wanna go home."

They lay there for several minutes, just holding on to each other. Shiro heard the other lions land outside. He heard their voices, Hunk and Pidge and Keith, raised with excitement and concern. "Where are they? I thought I saw them..." "They were, I know they were, they were right here!"

"Blue..." Lance murmured, barely audible, but somehow the lion understood. The gigantic paws moved, slowly and carefully, and the great roof of metal above them rose gently away. Shiro blinked out at the moonlit base, now utterly ruined and destroyed even more than it had been before, and saw Hunk spin around to stare at them, his eyes wide. Hunk tore off his helmet with one hand and rushed to meet them as fast as his immense strength would take him.

"Lance! Shiro! _Lance!"_

The others were right behind him, screaming and yelling and sobbing. Beyond, the black lion finally shattered the Galra particle barrier, then stood there, head lowered, feet spread in an aggressive stance. She had nowhere to go now, since the threat had been eliminated, but Shiro knew how she felt. They both wanted to run, wanted to fly, wanted to leave this planet behind forever.

"Lance!" Hunk was there, falling to his knees beside them. His hands reached out and landed on Lance's shoulders, trembling, gripping him lightly, and he looked worriedly into Shiro's face. "Is...is he...?"

Shiro nodded, still holding Lance's head against his shoulder. "He's okay." For a certain measure of okay. "He wants to go home."

Hunk nodded in relief. "The castle ship is right behind us. They're gonna come down and pick us up."

Pidge and Keith were here, too, hands reaching out to grab, to touch, to hold. They helped Shiro and Lance sit up, hasty and rushed but still as gently as they could. Hunk's hands remained on Lance's shoulders, offering everything he had, kindness, concern, friendship, support.

When they were upright, Lance let go of Shiro and turned to Hunk instead. His face was streaked with tears, his expression twisted in sorrow and eyes squeezed shut. Hunk wrapped his arms around him and held on as Lance heaved and sobbed.

Shiro smiled sadly, his heart aching in his chest. He was not in the least offended. He knew how much Lance and Hunk had missed each other. It was a great relief to see them together again.

Keith was there. He tucked himself under Shiro's left arm, and then Pidge was on the other side, holding his elbow in both hands. Keith was saying something, and Shiro focused on him with an effort. Keith's face was drawn and pale, and Shiro had to blink several times to bring him into focus.

"...you okay? Did you get hit?"

Shiro shook his head. "I'm fine, I... Nothing happened to me..."

He felt a sharp pain in his side and suddenly hissed through his teeth. He pressed his hand to the painful spot, surprised when it seemed to get worse instead of better. Pidge and Keith were talking, voices rising even higher in increased worry. Shiro looked down at himself, lifted his hand. Something dark and wet spread over his palm, gleaming maroon in the moonlight.

"Oh. I guess... One of them got through..."

"Shiro!" Hands on his shoulders, his face. He was falling. He didn't feel himself hit the ground.

Things got blurry after that. Shiro stared up at the stars, his vision fading in and out. He saw the white flare of the castle descending through the atmosphere, heard the roar of its engines. Someone held his hand, and someone else stroked his cheek, his hair. He closed his eyes. He wondered where Lance was. Somebody told him, but he couldn't catch all the words.

Coran, Allura, faces almost the same in stress and concern. They looked like they hadn't slept for days. The broad, clean halls of the castle, brilliant and beautiful. The scent of home, home, no rot here, no stinking corruption, nothing of the cells of the arena and the death and destruction that Shiro had both witnessed and wrought.

The room with the healing pods, a glimpse of Lance already safely esconced, and then Shiro was being placed inside one, too. He fought, briefly, weakly, didn't want to be enclosed in such a confined space, didn't want to be trapped. Keith was there, then Coran, holding his face, soothing him, telling him everything would be okay. Shiro believed them, let himself be put away. The world faded to gray and white, peaceful, serene, gone.

X

They were waiting for him when the pod opened and he stumbled out. Everyone but Lance. The instant he woke, Shiro was already looking around for him, and he saw Lance still unconscious in the pod next to his. Hunk caught Shiro when he would have fallen and held him up, strong arms wrapped around him. Shiro slumped, his head tipping over to rest on Hunk's shoulder. Everyone else crowded around, reaching out to touch him, to welcome him back.

Shiro was glad to see everyone, but his eyes were drawn back to Lance, his pale face trapped away from them under glass again. "Is...is..."

They understood, somehow. "He'll be all right," Allura said soothingly, watching Shiro with tender relief in her eyes. "He was hurt more badly than you, so he'll need longer to heal. But you did an excellent job of protecting each other. Both of you will recover fully."

Shiro shifted his heavy head, eyes finding Coran through the press. "The...the seizure...?"

Coran smiled warmly. His eyes were a little moist, and he dashed it away with one hand. "It caused no permanent damage. I told you everything would be all right."

Shiro nodded sluggishly. "Yeah. You did." His eyes strayed to Lance again. "I thought...for a while...it seemed like he wasn't getting enough oxygen..."

Hunk sighed. "It's true that Lance was in bad shape when we found you guys. Like, really bad shape. A lot worse than... Well. Worse than we were expecting. But you did it, man. You kept him safe." His arms tightened around Shiro, and now Hunk's voice started to get ragged too. "I don't know what all you went through down there, but... I know it was horrible. You said a little bit, while the ship was still coming, and Lance was delirious and he said some stuff... We'll have to hear the whole story from you guys later. But I gotta thank you, Shiro. Thank you so, so much. You saved my friend's life, sounds like a whole bunch of times, and I can never thank you enough."

"Ah." Shiro was sagging. It would be wise to go get some food, get dressed, maybe take a nap to recover from the post-cryo shakiness, but he didn't want to leave the infirmary yet. "Can we...sit down...?"

"Oh." Hunk sounded startled. "Sure thing, man."

They sank down to sit on the steps, Shiro still being supported by Hunk. Keith sat on his other side, and Pidge plopped down in front of them, turning on the steps and looking up at them. Coran and Allura were still standing on the floor in the middle, but they looked a little awkward, like they wanted to sit down with them, too, but weren't sure where to go.

Shiro looked around at all of them, making sure to meet each pair of eyes and give them all grateful smiles. "I'm...so glad to be home," he said. "Thank you all so much for making sure we both made it here."

Hunk was sniffling. Shiro turned his attention to him. He leaned into the big man's side, making sure he felt just how much Shiro needed and appreciated his support. "And about Lance... You remember, Hunk, when we first started learning to form Voltron? The first time we did it successfully on purpose, not by accident, you said something. You were excited and emotional, and you put your arms around both Keith and Lance and told them that you were brothers now."

Hunk nodded, not without some embarrassment. "Ah, I know that was a little awkward..."

Shiro shook his head, smiling soft and sincere. "It wasn't awkward, it was just the truth. You were the first one to see it, that's all. You're very perceptive, you know. Kind of a genius."

Hunk laughed moistly and hid his eyes with one hand. "Oh, c'mon..."

Shiro nudged him with his shoulder. "Nope, I'm just telling you the facts. Lance and I had a talk down on the planet, and... I thought you all deserve to hear just what I told him." He looked around at the others again, meeting their eyes. Pidge met his gaze, strong and forthright, but Keith had to look away for a moment. Allura and Coran watched him with steady compassion.

Shiro looked back to Hunk. "We all miss our families. Our home is far away now, and we can't go back without putting everyone we love in danger. And that hurts. But we have something else out here. We're brothers, Hunk. Lance is my little brother. And so it wasn't a hard decision to protect him, even to risk my life. To give everything I had. It was just natural. Just instinct. Because that's what you do for your family. And he did the same for me, over and over and over. So don't thank me. You don't have to thank me for taking care of my brother. Especially since you're my brother, too."

He put his other arm around Keith and hugged him to his side, then turned his face toward him and kissed the top of his head. "You, too, buddy."

Keith hid his face against Shiro's shoulder and put both arms around him, holding tight. Pidge smiled up at him, tears in her eyes. "Me, too?"

"Of course, you too. Sibling, brother, sister, whatever you want to call it." Shiro didn't have another hand, which he sorely regretted now, so he just gave her the warmest smile he could.

Hunk grinned a little shakily. “And Allura and Coran?”

Shiro raised his head and smiled at the Alteans. “Yes. They’re our family, too.”

They smiled back at him. Coran was crying again. He didn’t try to hide it.

Shiro looked back at Lance, his chest heaving in a sigh. He couldn't wait for him to get better. Couldn't wait for the whole family to be together.

"All right," Allura said, trying for briskness and failing utterly since her voice was shaky with emotion. "While this is all very heartwarming and important, Shiro needs to rest and eat. You can come back and check on Lance later. He'll be fine, and we'll all be here to greet him when he gets out."

Shiro nodded. He let Hunk and Keith lever him to his feet again and lead him out. Still, he couldn't help looking back one more time. It didn't seem right to leave Lance alone, even for half an hour. He knew Lance wouldn't like it, and he didn't like it, either.

X

The next couple of days were difficult. Shiro spent a good portion of it asleep, still recovering from his wound and his time in the pod, and he knew the others were catching up on their rest, too. Still, they all kept gravitating to the infirmary, watching over Lance. It was rare for the room to be empty, and it wasn't just Shiro who was reluctant to leave. They all seemed to sense somehow that Lance wouldn't want to be alone, even while he was unconscious and unable to respond.

Shiro told the others what happened on the planet, and they told him what happened up in the sky. Pidge and Hunk did, indeed, insist that Keith tell the stories of the space battles. Keith acted like he didn't want to, but once he started, he fell into it. At first he just sat there on the steps next to Lance’s pod, moving his hands to describe the motions of the ships, but then he had to get to his feet and pace around. He made big gestures to describe where everything was and ran from place to place to demonstrate the ship movements, his voice getting higher and more excited as he went. It was ridiculously adorable, and Shiro grinned through the entire thing.

"Hunk was _awesome,"_ Keith finished, his eyes sparkling. He had ended the story standing in front of Shiro, his arms spread and expression completely earnest, as if he was trying to impress on Shiro a grand truth of the universe.

Shiro nodded seriously. "I believe you. You made that very clear. You'll have to tell Lance the story when he wakes up."

Keith leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, frowning. "He's not gonna want to hear anything from me. He never does."

Shiro shook his head. "But this is a story about Hunk. He'll want to hear it."

Keith tilted his head, then nodded, seeing the logic in that. Shiro's smile faded. He felt much closer to his teammates now, especially Lance, and it bothered him that Keith and Lance still had not quite found their equilibrium with each other. They would have to work on it when Lance woke up. But there were a lot of things he wanted to work on when Lance woke up.

"What happened when you went in for real?" Shiro asked. "That battle you had while Lance and I were getting captured by the Galra? It must have been even bigger and more exciting."

Keith's eyes lit up, and he was off again. Shiro smiled and watched him go.

The kitchen kept being filled with very, very interesting smells, but Hunk never let anyone lend a hand with his experiments. "This is for _Lance,"_ he said when anyone dared to ask. "You'll all get to have some when he wakes up. No poaching!" He had a spatula and he was not afraid to use it. Even Shiro got his hand smacked when he got too curious.

Pidge disappeared into her lab, playing with the comm ship she and Hunk had dismantled. She said that even though the hack had only worked once, and that short-term, she might be able to discover more techniques for the future. Still, she wandered back to the infirmary now and then, just to keep an eye on Lance. Like the rest of them, she wanted to know when Lance would wake up so she could be there. Allura assured her that they would all be present.

Allura and Coran were busy, once again, restoring the castle after a difficult battle with the Galra. Coran did tell Shiro that Keith, Hunk and Pidge had annhilated the fleet they had faced at the jungle planet even more thoroughly than usual, which was why they all could take their time now. "Not a single drone escaped!" was Coran's cheerful way of putting it. Nothing was going to come after them for a while.

All in all, it felt like everyone was waiting. They were all waiting for Lance to wake up. Only then could they continue their journey.

Finally, the time came. They all stood on the floor in front of Lance's pod, watching it with wide eyes. Keith's fingers twitched with the need to just open it up already and get him out, but Shiro's hand on his shoulder held him back. Pidge looked like she was holding her breath, and Hunk's hands were clasped in front of his body.

Then, it happened. The glass cleared, then vanished, and Lance opened his eyes. He took a step forward, wobbling dangerously, but Hunk was already there holding him up before he had a chance to waver. Lance looked around at them, his eyes clearing. Then he saw Shiro and locked on to his face, staring without blinking.

Shiro smiled. "Welcome back, kiddo."

And Lance smiled, too. "It's good to be home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart! [Lance wants to go home](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/148020105821/thepurpleparisian-soi-hope-this-is-okaybut-i)


	14. Chapter 14

At long last, they were all seated around the dining table, looking down at the plates Hunk set out for each of them. The food smelled amazing, and Shiro's fingers tightened around his fork. His mouth was watering, and he was eager to dig in. But they were all waiting for Lance to have the first bite, since this was a present for him (and Hunk would smack anyone who jumped the gun).

Lance looked down at his plate, his eyebrows twisting together. He was still a little pale, sagging in his seat with persistent exhaustion, but his eyes were bright and clear. Hunk patted his shoulder before plopping into the seat next to him with a satisfied sigh, eyeing his own plate with contentment.

Lance picked up his fork and prodded at the chunks on his plate with the tines. They were fried and crispy, and a very pleasant scraping sound rose in the room. "These are..." Lance looked over at Hunk, his eyes narrowing. "Hunk, these papas fritas are purple."

Hunk grinned and nodded. "Good eye, dude. Also..." He picked one of the little leafy things scattered over his own purple chunks and held it up. "The cilantro is pink."

"I noticed." Lance leaned over and took a long, contemplative sniff of his food. He seemed to relish his newly returned ability to take deep, long breaths without his body complaining or stopping in the middle, and who could blame him. "It smells pretty good. Not like Mamá's, though."

Hunk rolled his eyes. "I didn't say they were going to be like your mamá's. I said they would be _better._ Now are you gonna eat them or not? Because I _will_ take them back if you aren't sufficiently grateful."

Lance flashed him a broad, teasing grin, revealing that he had just been messing with Hunk the whole time. "Of course I'm gonna eat them, dude. I'm starving, and I know already it's going to taste incredible." He suited actions to words and loaded his fork with two or three fried purple chunks, then stuffed them all into his mouth at once.

They all watched Lance's face for his reaction, Shiro no less attentively than Hunk. As usual, Lance was animated and expressive, revealing everything he felt. His face lit up at the first taste, and he grinned around his food as he chewed ferociously, then slumped over his plate and pounded his fist on the table, eyes watering. "Holy quiznak, that is spicy." He did not sound sad about it.

Hunk thumped his back, grinning triumphantly. "Did I find the right level for you?"

"You bet your booty you did." Lance loaded his fork again, even fuller than before, and jammed it into his mouth. Then he looked around at everyone and talked through his full mouth, lips stretched around his food. "Whad're y' wadin' for? Ish delishush!"

They all smiled and dug in, even Pidge and Keith, who usually viewed unfamiliar dishes with extreme distrust. The response was immediate. Keith coughed and grabbed his glass of water, then sucked it down all in a gulp, his face fiery red. Pidge chewed determinedly on, but tears streamed from her eyes. Hunk grinned, savoring every bite with evident glee. Coran cried, too, but they seemed to be happy tears, and he was vociferous in his praise. Allura ate so happily and calmly that Shiro might have been fooled into thinking she was consuming tea and cookies on a sunny veranda.

Shiro liked it a great deal. But then, he had been the kind to sneak wasabi powder from the tiny can his mother kept in the back of the cupboard, so he might have been an outlier. To him, the balance of fierce spices and hearty tubers tasted just right, and the creamy yellow sauce Hunk had provided on the side cut any discomfort for him.

Shiro saw Hunk looking to him for his reaction and gave him a big thumb's up. "You were right," he said. "I love your papas fritas!"

Hunk laughed joyfully and gave him a thumb's up back.

"Okay, no, " Keith gasped after a manly and, Shiro thought, quite admirable effort. "That's enough for me, thanks. I'm full." He pushed back from the table and rushed into the kitchen, where they heard him rummaging for something that might cut the heat better for him.

Not long after, Pidge squeaked and slid under the table, panting feebly. "Fried potatoes," she said, her voice echoing mournfully. "It just means fried potatoes. _Why does it taste like magma."_

"More for me, then," Lance said cheerfully. He hooked a finger in the edge of Pidge's plate and pulled it toward himself.

"And for me," Allura said, her eyes sparkling no less than Hunk and Lance's. She took Keith's plate for her own while Keith yelled for help in the kitchen. Coran stood up and patted Hunk on the head to thank him for the food, then went to assist him, tears still falling down his cheeks.

Lance laughed at them all, eating away. He asked Hunk where he had found this ingredient or that, and Hunk excitedly described his multiple quests all over the jungle planet. Turned out the tubers were half the planet away from the cilantro, and the peppers came from somewhere else entirely. Nothing, Shiro was pretty sure, actually came from the swampy lake area where he and Lance had landed. He was grateful for that, in a petty and distant way. Nothing good could possibly come from a place that had caused them both so much pain.

Allura got in on the action, too, asking Hunk to share his cooking techniques. Apparently the Alteans had never heard of deep-frying. He turned to her, grinning all over his face, and told her all about it while she nodded with evident interest.

Shiro kept his eyes on Lance. When Hunk and Allura weren't paying attention to him, he seemed to shrink into himself. He kept eating, but his smile faded, and he looked down at his plate and steadily shoveled food into his mouth. Even his shoulders slumped. Then Hunk turned back to him, and he brightened and sat straight again, a smile once again overtaking his features.

Shiro understood, or he thought he did. Lance was tired, and he was sad. The ordeal in the jungle had left a mark, however he might try to hide it from his friends. Lance had taken no permanent physical damage from his injuries and illness, but the healing pod still couldn't repair everything. Shiro knew that well. He would have to keep an eye on him. But he didn't get a chance to talk to him for the rest of the day.

That night, Shiro had his first nightmare since before Blue crashed into that lake. He knew he'd been getting too much sleep lately. This one was particularly disturbing, with some new features he'd never seen before. Perhaps it wasn't surprising, after everything that had happened.

Of course it was about Lance. The dream started out with Shiro leaning over him in the hot jungle bracken, pumping his chest and begging under his breath, trying to make him breathe again. He failed. It just went on and on, and he felt Lance's ribs crack under his hands, and eventually he knew. Lance was dead. Shiro wasn't going to be able to bring him back. He had failed.

Lance was never going to smile at Shiro again. Never going to cuddle up to his side in the night and tell him about Nicky and Javier and his step-dad. Never going to confess that Shiro reminded him of his worshipped big brother, that he looked up to him as a hero. Never going to cry on his shoulder, never going to hug him back when Shiro tried to offer comfort, never going to fall asleep curled against him. Never going to pull the trigger to take a shot, steely-eyed and grim, to save Shiro's life as well as his own.

So Shiro was dead, too. He couldn't survive this place without Lance. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Shiro sat back on his heels, trembling and gasping, and stared at Lance's slack face with burning eyes. Then Lance started to rot. His eyes and cheeks sunk into his face, flesh turning gray, then black. His hands shrank to skin and bones until his fingernails stood out like claws. A worm crawled out of a hole in his cheek.

The surroundings morphed from leafy, overgrown jungle to bare, dark stone. Shiro stared around, his breath speeding up, becoming more shaky and harsh. He knew this place. He knew it. It was the cells, the cells below the arena. He heard the tramp of Galra soldiers in the hall outside. The stink of rotting flesh was thick, overpowering, stomach-churning, and he gagged on his own spit, then began to choke.

Shiro woke, bolting upright in his bed with the breath strangled out of him. He raised his hands to his throat and pressed them there, heaving and shaking. He was covered in sweat, and his blankets were sweltering. He kicked them aside and stood up, sucking in breath after breath of clean castle air.

A dream. Just a dream. He said it to himself over and over again, standing there in the dark with his hands pressed to his chest. It was just a dream.

He walked out of his room and into the hall, bare feet cold on the metal floor. He stopped outside the door to Lance's room and stood there, his hand hovering in the air. No. Lance needed his sleep. He was still recovering. Shiro turned on his heel and walked away.

Eventually he found himself up in the control deck, sitting with his back to the wall and staring out at the stars drifting by. He had dreamed about his teammates dying before, even dreamed that he'd failed them, that he was responsible, but this one felt particularly realistic and cruel. If events had gone just a little more badly down there on that planet, it could have been true. He had a vivid image in his head of what Lance would look like dead, because Lance had seemed almost there, near the end with his skin washed of color, his breathing persistently halting in his chest until Shiro held his own breath every time, waiting for it to go on.

He hugged himself and shivered. Should have brought something to wrap up in. He usually remembered, these nights when sleep failed and the only alternative was wandering about, then sitting silent against a wall somewhere, but it had been a while, so he'd forgotten.

"Shiro?"

Lance. Shiro half sat away from the wall, looking for him. He was standing in the door, draped in a blanket, his face hesitant. Not sure he was allowed, just like that night in the tree. Shiro smiled and sat back, then held out his arm for him. "C'mere, kiddo."

Lance came. He opened the blanket and snuggled up next to Shiro, then tugged the blanket around them both. Shiro got them settled, got his arm around Lance's shoulders and pulled him in close. Lance tucked his feet up next to his rear and nestled his head on Shiro's shoulder with a tiny sigh.

"Is this okay?"

"More than okay," Shiro said, so quickly that he almost didn't give Lance time to finish the question. "More than okay, anytime. Anytime at all." He reached his hand up and ruffled it through Lance's hair, then let the hand slip back inside the blanket and pulled it tight around them again. "But what are you doing up? You need your rest."

Lance sighed again, more heavily this time. "Nightmare."

"Oh." Shiro was sorry, more sorry than he could express. A lump rose up in his throat. It felt bigger than a world.

It wasn't fair. Lance didn't deserve this. None of them did.

Lance's shoulders shifted in something like a shrug. "'Sokay. I'll get used to it. It's stupid, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Just..." Lance pressed his head a little harder into Shiro's shoulder, as if he could hide there. "It's not like... It's not like our hands are clean. Any of us. We've all blown up Galra ships, formed as Voltron or apart. We know... I know... Those weren't just robots and drones in there. Those were Galra, too, living creatures, even if they're evil madmen. And..." His voice lowered to a whisper, each word coming out stretched and hard-won. "Maybe even...prisoners. Innocent people. Dead at our hands. Who knows? We can't know. Maybe...we shouldn't know."

"Yeah." Shiro tightened his arm around Lance's shoulders. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going, and it hurt him so badly that it took his breath, his words, far away from him and scattered them to nothing.

"But..." Lance took a breath, then went on. "But that guy, on the planet, at the end... Something was different about that. It felt different, even if it wasn't, not really. I...shot him between the eyes. I killed him where he stood."

"Yes, you did," Shiro said solemnly. "You saved both of our lives."

Lance shivered against him. "I know that. I do. But...I can't forget... I can't forget what that looked like. His...face. With...with the new hole I put there."

Shiro had nothing else he could say. He brought up his other arm and wrapped it around Lance's front, pressed him in, and rested his cheek on the top of his head.

"I... I don't even know his name."

"Ragnak," Shiro whispered. "His name was Ragnak. And he deserved to die. But I wish you hadn't had to be the one do it. I wish that with all my heart."

Lance heaved a sigh and turned his head so his forehead rested against the exposed skin under Shiro's chin. "I know you do. But... I guess it had to be this way."

They were in a war. Shiro knew that. But it didn't always hit home, not like this. He was in a war with four teenage kids and two aliens who had been locked away from the universe for ten thousand years. None of them were prepared for this. None of them knew what they were doing, least of all Shiro. They had to muddle through, somehow, someway, because it was the only option they had. But, oh, it hurt sometimes. It cut like a thousand knives.

"My step-dad..." Lance's voice was starting to get a little fuzzy. He seemed more relaxed now than when he'd begun, curving into Shiro like a cat.

Shiro remembered. "He was an army sharpshooter."

"Yeah. Sniper. Special unit. He told me once, when we were at the range, practicing together... You never forget. You think you will, but you don't. Sometimes they blur together, but... You remember every single one. You always will, when you least want to, when you wish you couldn't. So you have to know... You have to know, every time, what you're getting into. You have to be willing to accept it before you pull the trigger. You have to make up your mind, or you have no business holding a gun."

"You made up your mind," Shiro murmured.

"Yeah. Long time ago. As soon as we ended up out here, fighting Galra. Before that, I just wanted to be a pilot. I just wanted to explore the universe. But this happened instead, and... That first planet Hunk and I went to, and I thought he was dead... I accepted it. I thought: Blood on my hands is okay. It's okay, as long as my friend is alive."

Shiro stroked his hair.

Lance drew a breath. "My step-dad... I just call him Dad, most of the time. My biological dad is Papá. But Dad... He shot terrorists. They deserved to die, every single one of them, and he is absolutely sure of that. But he still remembers. He still has dreams. He still gets up and paces the house sometimes, checking on all of us kids. Don't know how many nights I'd wake up, just a little, and he'd be standing in the doorway looking over me and my brothers or sisters or whoever was sharing the room at the time. I didn't mind. I felt safe. I slept better after he left."

"Oh."

Lance sighed and settled himself a little further under Shiro's chin. "Thought you might like to know."

"Yes. Thank you, Lance."

"So anyway. What was I saying? Oh yeah. I knew. Before I took the shot. I knew, at least I had some idea, what it would be like. But..." His breathing started getting a little ragged. Not because his lungs were crowded, this time. At least, not with pneumonia.

Shiro fought against the lump in his throat and stroked Lance's hair. "You didn't know it would be this hard."

"No. I didn't."

Lance cried, then. Not a lot. He was too tired for a big, messy demonstration of emotion. It was quiet and still and very subdued. But it broke Shiro's heart, all the same.

When he was done, he moved his head back to Shiro's shoulder, almost limp against him now. "Was that okay?" he asked.

"Yes. Anytime. It's not stupid, Lance. Don't ever think that what you're feeling is stupid."

"Okay." Lance yawned and blinked out at the stars. "You're not stupid, either, Shiro."

Shiro laughed quietly, gently. "All right. Thank you, buddy. I'll do my best to remember that."

Lance fell asleep then. Shiro thought he wouldn't, himself, thought he would just sit there all night, holding him, listening to those soft breaths that came so easily and freely now, but he slept too. They woke hours later to a new dawn rising over a new planet, and they both knew that nothing would ever be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure papas fritas are not actually supposed to be that spicy, but chalk it up to Lance's preferences and Hunk's skill in meeting them. Or maybe Pidge and Keith are really, really sensitive. But anyway, fun scene.
> 
> So! This is it. Thank you so so so much for all of your reviews and comments and likes and everything. It means more than I can express. I'm sorry I kind of fell behind in responding, but I figured you guys would appreciate new chapters more. This story has been a rollercoaster, and I am grateful beyond words for all of you who shared the ride with me and let me know that you enjoyed it.
> 
> Also! My lovely friend, haikyuusetters, has made art! Enjoy! [Platonic hugs, yay!](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/147918786891/haikyuusetters-maychorian-thank-you-for)
> 
> Also! There will be a sequel to deal with the changes in Shiro and Lance's relationship, as well as the reactions of everyone else on the ship. Some of them are happier about it than others. When I originally started writing this story, I meant it to be like an episode, a stand-alone adventure that you could imagine happening sometime in Season 2 after the gang has gotten back together. But yeah, then Shiro and Lance had that heart-to-heart, and now poor Lance has some PTSD that needs dealt with, and Lance is also much more aware of the problems Shiro is struggling with... So things change. 
> 
> The sequel will be titled "Sell Me Your Nightmares, I'll Trade Them for Dreams." Watch this space.
> 
> Again, thank you very much! Your support means the world to me. (And makes me write faster, too.)
> 
> Update: Another beautiful platonic hug! [LOOK AT IT](http://maychorian.tumblr.com/post/148020105821/thepurpleparisian-soi-hope-this-is-okaybut-i)
> 
> Update 2: The Boom Crash playlist is now on 8tracks: [Boom Crash](http://8tracks.com/maychorian/boom-crash)


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